


Hanging Garden of Weeds

by mantisbelle



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/M, Mass Casualty Incidents, Minor Character Death, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Felix | Isaac Gates/Locus | Samuel Ortez, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-10-16 21:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/pseuds/mantisbelle
Summary: Locus returned to Iris on a Thursday night, more exhausted and more troubled from one of his self-assigned missions than he ever had before.Two weeks earlier, Locus took A'rynasea and went into the void of space looking to do only one thing: Help.





	1. Present Day: Friday, 11 PM, Iris Local Time

**Author's Note:**

> This story is told in two timelines, alternating between past and present from chapter to chapter. The chapter titles will say when the chapter takes place.

At close to eleven at night, local time, Locus stumbled into Blue Base, exhausted and so glad to be solid ground that he could have cried. He didn’t want to stay on his ship anymore. He'd spent too much time out in the vacuum of space, too much time alone. 

He could have gone to Red Base, but Locus had learned that he didn’t want to come home so late to them. Either he would go to the room he shared with Donut to find someone already in his bed, or he’d get seen on the way in and bothered. 

It was a night where Locus wanted—  _ needed _ to be somewhere quiet. Not alone. With someone who could understand. 

He made his way into Blue Base, silent as death and walked toward the tiny room tucked in the back where he knew he’d find that company. He didn’t bother to knock— it wasn’t exactly in his plans to try and wake anyone else if he could avoid it. 

She laid in her bed, the soft blue blanket pulled over her as she slumbered. Locus stopped by the door, and felt a sudden rush of sentimentality that didn’t usually come so quickly. Never so suddenly. 

It was nice seeing her so at peace. So unaware of the monstrous haze that the last several days of his life had become. Unaware that he’d been so wrapped up in his mission that he’d lost track of how many days it had truly even been. 

In the corner, Locus pulled off his helmet first and walked to the tiny dresser in the corner. He set it down first, a little too loudly. 

Her head jerked up. She blinked back at him, searching him out or looking for something specific. “Hello?” She asked, unaware of who was in the room with her. 

“It’s Locus.” He said, sure to keep his voice down. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Carolina pushed herself upright and stared across the room at him. He wondered what he looked like— how bad it had to be. He hadn’t even had a chance to take a shower yet. He was too tired. She eyed him though. “How long have you been here?”

“Seven minutes.” Locus guessed. “Give or take.” 

Carolina nodded and flopped back down into her bed. “Take a shower and come to bed.” She offered him. “We can try and talk in the morning. Or whenever you’re back if I’m still up.”

Locus felt his heart nearly skip a beat. The open invitation was something that he was never exactly wanting to turn down. He stripped out of the rest of his armor pieces, carefully removed the single set of clothes that Carolina had demanded he keep in her dresser, and went off for a fast shower.

The shower couldn’t have taken any longer than ten minutes. It would have only taken five if Locus hadn’t decided to stand there under the hot water as the heat sank down into his muscles and soothed some of the aches and pains that had developed over the course of his last mission. The water beat against his back like a tiny, desperately needed massage.

Locus decided to get out in the ninth minute. The tenth minute of his shower was dedicated to him spraying the debris, blood, and dust away from his undersuit before he left it to drip dry in the shower as many of the Reds and Blues did normally. It would be ready for him in the morning.

He took the time to dress himself and dry his hair before he went back to Carolina’s room.

When he stepped inside, she was still up, reading something on her datapad with the night light setting turned on so she didn’t have to stare into the bluish backlight. Whatever it was she was looking at, Locus didn’t know. He just wordlessly stalked forward and climbed into bed at her side.

It was soft under him— much more comfortable than either of the pilot’s seats on A’rynasea ever managed to be. He knew that the bunk was comparable in softness but Locus could never bring himself to sleep there. It was too short, too cramped, and far too closed in for his liking. 

Carolina set the datapad back down on the bedside table without bothering to turn it off. It would turn off the screen itself in a minute. Locus glanced over, and the name  _ Babylon _ stared out at him. It made his stomach twist uncomfortable. He said nothing about it and tried to pull the blanket up over him. 

“Hey.” Carolina said, her hand making its way to his chest. “I’ve missed you.”

Locus let out a heavy breath. “I didn’t have time to miss you.” He replied, truthful. “I’m sorry.” 

“Not hurt?”

“Nothing worth reporting.” Locus mumbled back to her. He laced his fingers with hers. She was warm against his skin. He’d missed being warm— it always felt cold off in space. 

Carolina smiled softly though. She dipped down to press a kiss to his lips, and then trail it down a little lower. Locus’ eyes slipped shut, since it was such a pleasant experience. He sank down further into the bed and when Carolina climbed on top of him and slipped her hands under his shirt, he did nothing to protest because he couldn’t find it in himself to want to. 

His sleep pants ended up getting pulled down around his knees, while Carolina rode him and panted and moaned, while Locus could barely manage to find it in himself to thrust up into her because he was just so tired. She came around him, and dragged him down along with her, one of his hands rested loosely on her thigh. 

Afterward, she laid down at his side once more while he pulled his pants back up and tucked himself away. Carolina had only just pulled her underwear back on, apparently not in the mood to put the shorts she’d been in back on. She pushed herself in close to him, so that they had constant contact. Locus wrapped himself in her to the best of his ability in that moment. 

She propped her chin on his chest, and stared up at him with vivid green eyes that looked even more unnatural under the pale light of the moon. “So.” She whispered to him, as she let herself dip down to kiss along his neckline. Locus let out a little hum, just to let her know that he was listening. 

Satisfied with his response, Carolina continued speaking between soft little kisses, while Locus tilted his head back to give her more. He wrapped his arms around her, just to keep her close. “You aren’t usually this needy.” She mumbled into his collarbone. 

Usually, Locus supposed, he would do more to show that he was done when he was done. Prolonged contact of the sort they were engaged in for the moment was out of the ordinary. 

He didn’t know that he considered himself  _ needy _ for not wanting it to stop, though. 

Locus sighed and pulled away, even as she tried to splay herself out more on top of him, one hand dipped down to play with the baby hairs at the back of his head. He let himself sit up, though it left him crouched over Carolina almost awkwardly when he did so. “It’s been a while.” He offered by way of explanation. As though that could explain it all away. As though it would excuse the desperate need for comfort that he felt that night. 

Carolina eyed him and sat up. “It’s been  _ two weeks _ .” She offered as a rebuttal, clear skepticism already creeping into her tone. “What’s going on with you?”

And then, Locus sighed, because he couldn’t exactly  _ hide  _ it. He’d always had a terrible poker face, and he supposed that it had just been a matter of time before she figured out that there was something seriously wrong. A part of him wondered whether she’d realized a connection between him and the article she had been reading earlier. 

He pulled the blanket tight around him, like it would pull him back together and quell the confusion that had filled him for the last several days. 

He leaned back against the wall behind them, and Carolina arranged herself at his side. No eye contact, the two of them simply focused in on the wall instead of each other. She pulled her legs up so that she could curl into a comfortable position. As much as his skin ached for her, he didn’t dare let himself reach back out to touch. 

The moonlight seemed to glow against the bare skin of her legs.

“My latest trip was…” His voice trailed off for a moment. “Difficult.” He explained. 

“Stressful?”

“Yes.” Locus mumbled back. “More than you’d realize.” 

Carolina twisted to face him. “Any reason?”

“Yes.” He mumbled. “Being good is…” He swallowed. “ _ Exhausting _ .” 

She let out a sound that was almost like a little snort. “Let me guess.” She started. “Someone you personally wronged?” A question brought up by personal experience, Locus knew. 

“No.” He told her the truth. Pretending that he had done  _ anything  _ which could be called personal was unfortunately too reductive of his crimes. He’d hurt too many people, destroyed too many lives for there to be anything personal about it. If he had to identify someone he’d hurt in a crowd, he knew that he couldn’t. 

Carolina sighed. “Do you want to talk about it at all?” She seemed to start to reach out for him again, only to stop herself before the contact could be made. Her hand dropped back down to the bed. 

“No.” He said. “I…” His voice trailed off. He clamped his mouth shut and tried to think of the right words to say. “It was just a hard mission.” 

Carolina blinked. “You say that like you need a debriefing.” Most nights there would have been some sort of joke attached to that statement. Locus knew it by heart— he’d already had a debriefing when he’d decided to let Carolina ride him like it was the only thing in the universe left that mattered. 

Even when it so clearly, so obviously, was not. 

“I  _ don’t _ .” Locus told her. “I think I just might need…” 

She looked at him. He closed his eyes. 

“Time.” 

Carolina rolled her eyes and got up. He watched her silently as she tugged the shorts that she’d been wearing earlier back on. “Why don’t you come back some other time?” She told him, soft. “It’s not that I don’t like seeing you, it just sounds like you need some time to get your shit together. We’ll talk soon.” 

She was right. Locus  _ knew  _ she was right. 

“Alright.” He resigned himself to it, before getting up and dragging himself out of the room and back to his own ship. He didn’t bother to pick up the pieces of his armor on the way out. He could get them in the morning. 

The fact that A’rynasea was the absolute last place in the universe that he wanted to be in didn’t seem to matter. 

It was the only place he could go. 


	2. 11 Days Ago, 4:45 AM, Interplanetary Standard Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks before, Locus departed.

The honest truth was that when Locus had made the decision to board A’rynasea and fly off into the void of space, he hadn’t left with any immediate plans to return to Iris. He’d caused enough trouble in the Reds and Blues lives to go ahead and stay there and complicate things further.

The sad truth was that leaving had been a thousand times easier than staying ever would have been. When it come to leaving, he was able to justify it to himself over and over until he finally reached the point where he actually _believed_ the justifications.

The justifications came easily enough. All he had to do was look at the last several years of his own life to come up with them.

Justification number one, an honest truth: He was a horrible person.

Justification number two, another truth: He’d committed crimes he’d _never_ be able to atone for, regardless of whether he was in or out of a cell.

Justification number three— he _wanted_ to call it a truth even though it was difficult to do so: He deserved to be dead.

Justification number four, yet another thing he called _truth_ : The Reds and Blues were better off without him, regardless of what his feelings were.

Locus had left with the thought that going back out, taking his ship and going to do what he’d _been_ doing before he’d landed with them would be _easy_ . After all, he’d spent most of his life changing location often enough that he’d never come to really consider anywhere home. It would have been like putting on an old pair of pants, or donning his armor, or riding a bike. Familiar and repetitive in all of the best ways. He would have been able to turn his mind off and just _leave._

But it hadn’t been easy. Instead, it had been unbelievably difficult. It had left him feeling empty and broken and unable to figure out what he should do. His theory when he’d left had been that he would go back to answering SOS signals that A’ryansea picked up.

The problem with listening for and answering SOS signals was that it left Locus with _a lot_ of downtime and no way to keep himself from focusing on his own thoughts. In a way, there was absolutely nothing more dangerous that he could have been doing. If Locus had other options, he would have pursued them.

Most of the transmissions that he listened to did nothing. The vast majority of transmissions that he picked up were requests for clear airspace so that transports and merchant ships could pass without issue. Nothing that he could respond to— certainly nothing that he could _risk_ responding to since Locus was still a fugitive at the end of the day.

If he would respond, it could only be to those that needed help.

But even still, space was oppressively lonely. It was lonely in ways that the compression from his armor’s under suit couldn’t ease. It was lonely in ways that cut him down to the bones and made his chest ache when he thought of it.

In a horrible way, the Reds and Blues had made him too used to being around people. There was even one that he missed enough that it made his skin almost ache.

The hardest times were, by a significant margin, the simulated night hours that he had to endure on A’rynasea alone.

Roughly every fourteen hours, A’rynasea’s interior lighting would dim and darken to simulate a night on Earth. The only thing that would interrupt the darkness was the glow of the command consoles at the front of the ship. Without the consoles, the ship would be pitch black inside aside from the occasional dot of white running through the walls.

On Iris, Locus would have been able to enjoy his nights. He would have been able to park his ship in the valley. He could go outside and look out at the glow of Chorus in the sky, or the stars. He’d be able to spend his nights with the Reds or Blues, or occasionally in Carolina’s bed when the mood struck.

Sometimes he’d simply miss her. Her and her wild hair, her and her biting jabs, her and her convictions, her and her strength.

He missed movie nights with Red Team. He missed training in the mornings with Blue Team.

He just missed Iris. But he couldn’t go back. Not because he was lonely, and definitely not without having done something first. Once he’d answered at least one signal, Locus would be able to justify going back to Iris. Until then, he had no choice but to stay on his ship in the vacuum of space _atoning_ for his crimes on Chorus.

Chorus. It was the one thing that always managed to creep its way up into the back of his mind, always poking and prodding and reminding him of how much he’d done wrong. And the worst part was that he couldn’t even pretend as though he felt only guilt.

The loss of Felix was a weight of its own. The loss of late nights stumbling home drunk together, or having Felix at his side, or of nights curled together in a shared bunk. He missed bounties with Felix and Siris both. He miss ed the multitude of things that they’d done to make being ‘civilians’ bearable.

None of those civilian things done with Felix were things that Locus had done on Iris. In a way, he felt better because of it.  The Reds and Blues were _different,_ Locus thought.

And then, he’d be reminded why the Reds and Blues were better off without him— his old comrades were dead. _All_ of them were dead.

If he’d stayed on Iris, with them, it would have only been a matter of time before the Reds and Blues were met with the same fate. They had allies on Chorus, they had good things going for them, and he would only…

He’d only ruin it all.

So instead of resting through the simulated nights, Locus sat up awake and listened to the myriad transmissions which came through A’rynasea’s speakers. He didn’t allow himself go back to the tiny bunk at the back of his ship, because lying down in a bed made him feel too lonely. It made him miss what he’d left behind. It was also a little too cramped for his liking and he couldn’t stretch himself out comfortable due to his height.

On the third day of drifting, a transmission came through. It was the first one that wasn’t transports asking for clearance, or merchant ships making communications, or on one particularly amusing incidence, a pair of men bickering over flight speeds.

It was 4:45 in the morning when it came in. A’rynasea roused him by flickering the lights above his head on and off, just bright enough to alert him. Locus sat up and blinked blearily as he tried to figure out what it could have been. The lights flickered again, courtesy of his on-board AI, and finally Locus allowed himself to sit up.

As soon as he was upright, it began to play.

“-elp.” A woman’s voice said, though it was nearly entirely drowned out by static. “-is the Ba—” Static again. “Requesting—” It fell from being listenable once more. “Please send—”

The message began to loop, but it wasn’t any clearer than it had been on the first play through. Locus set his console to record it regardless before he stood up properly.

He was exhausted from lack of sleep, but it was the first thing he’d gotten in days to respond to. He paced the cockpit once before he spoke up.

“A’rynasea.” He croaked the name out, since it was the first thing that he’d actually said in a few days. “Track the frequency that message came in on.” Within seconds, a starmap was displayed on his control screens and he was able to begin setting course. The audio feed was also kept on display, represented by a single blue line on a black background in a window of its own.

Again, the transmission played.

Locus swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He’d already begun to prepare to set course for the possible source for the signal. The problem was that he didn’t know what he would actually be responding to. Without knowing, he couldn’t necessarily provide the correct aid. There was even a chance, a paranoid, too often listened to part of him, that it was a trap. 

SOS signals had been how he and Felix had hijacked the Tartarus, after all.

But Locus didn’t know that he could justify ignoring it on the chance that it was a trap. If he found himself in ship to ship combat, then he’d fight to survive.

If he had people to help, he would help them.

_It’s a good thing I’m used to sleeping in my armor_ , Locus thought to himself as he opened the armory and began on the work of preparing for battle.

It was also a good thing that A’rynasea was fast. If she wasn’t, the chance of success dropped drastically.

“Monitor that frequency.” Locus ordered his ship as he walked toward the on board armory closet. “And get me to that ship as soon as possible.”

A’rynasea’s lights dimmed comfortingly, an affirmation, before its engines went into a higher thrust and Locus rocketed off towards someone in need of help alone and potentially woefully unprepared for what he would soon find.

But it was all that he could do.


	3. Present Day: Saturday, 4 AM, Iris Local Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carolina finds Locus on morning patrol and tries to get some answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this chapter from mobile to see whether it could be done.

After barely getting any sleep, Locus jolted awake on A’rynasea. He was breathing too heavily, the light blanket that he’d pulled over himself earlier sticking to his skin with sweat. It was uncomfortable. Locus swallowed like it would be able to bring him back to normal, and sat upright in his pilot’s chair that he’d used as a bed.

Bit by bit, Locus began to take stock of his surroundings.

He couldn’t hear the thrust of his ship’s engines, or at least he couldn’t over the sound of his heart beating too hard in his chest. When Locus glanced out the window, there were no stars passing him by slowly. No ships in motion.

A’ryansea was parked. At rest.

He stood up and got out of his seat. The floor was cold against his feet, even through the pair of heavy socks that he wore.

When Locus looked down at himself, everything finally fell into place and began to make sense.

He was dressed in civilian clothing. His undersuit was stored somewhere, along with his armor. He was wearing the pair of pajama pants which Tucker had given him— Locus _strongly_ suspected they were Caboose’s hand-me-downs. Carolina had insisted that he’d keep them in Blue Base so that he’d have something to wear which wasn’t just his armor.

Carolina.

He’d need to talk to her eventually, Locus knew. It was just a matter of  _when_ he felt like he was up to the task. He’d never been cast out of her bedroom before. They were going to have to talk.

Locus pressed his hand against a control panel and watched the lights above his head slowly come to life, not bright enough that it hurt his eyes but bright enough that he could at least see.

“A’rynasea, what time is it?” Locus asked the on board AI in the hopes that it would give him an answer.

The heads up display at the front of the ship lit up, displaying six different times. The first was International Standard Time, the second Chorusan Standard Time, and the Third on the list was the local time on Iris. Two of the remaining times were synced to planets where he’d once lived. The last had been added to his display for the purposes of the mission he’d just finished.

Iris local time stated that it was 4:23 in the morning. If Locus had to guess, he hadn’t gotten more than an hour and a half of sleep. It being 4:23 in the morning meant that the Freelancers would be getting up soon. The Blues would be coming soon after, and then the Reds tended to get up at around an hour after the Blues.

Going back to sleep would be pointless, Locus told himself as he pulled himself into his armor, and dragged himself out of the ship with his sniper rifle at his back and his key attached to the magstrip on his thigh.

Above Iris’ sky, Locus could see Chorus off in the distance. He stood there outside of his ship and stared at it for a short while— no more than a few minutes. The mix of horrid emotions that stirred within him at the sight weren’t enough for him to let go of. He never could let go of them.

With another failure fresh on his mind, he didn’t know that he’d be able to rest. Not when he couldn’t get what he’d done out of his mind.

He could go back to Chorus and then—

And then he didn’t know.

He supposed the most likely outcome would be his own execution, or at the least imprisonment. Perhaps there was a high bounty on his head and it would only be a matter of time before a group of young former soldiers banded together to bring him down, for both the good of Chorus and their own profit margins. Or perhaps someone would do what he and Felix had once done and take matters into their own hands for the sake of cushioning their bank accounts.

None of it would be enough to be considered _just_. Not after everything he'd done.

In the end, Locus had to force himself to look away from Chorus. He bowed his head and began to walk out to the perimeter of the area that the Reds and Blues had decided to live on. If he wanted to, he could borrow a Warthog or a Mongoose to make the trip faster, but walking was more comforting. It gave him more time to  _think._

Locus walked out to the far edge of the area, where one of the old burned out apartment buildings had been re-purposed into a watch tower. If Locus had to guess, it was the former Blue Base. He looked back over his shoulder to ensure that he wasn't being tailed, and stepped up inside. He ducked behind a dark curtain that was made out of an old charred blanket, and took a seat in one of the two metal folding chairs that were set up in the tower for anyone to use.

The watch tower was where Locus spent most of his mornings when he was on Iris. Being able to watch the whole of their settlement from that one spot made it possible for him to relax or feel like he could breathe. In addition, nobody tended to bother him when he was there. It made it easier for him to relax when he was left alone. When he was left alone, Locus was actually able to concentrate.

So when Locus set his rifle up, he took his time. He focused his scope on the Red and Blue bases, and kept watch for the Reds and Blues, though he knew that Carolina and Washington would be up first. Settling into the nest he’d made in the watchtower was easy as breathing. Meditative, almost.

Locus lost track of how long he’d been watching when the first people appeared.

Sure enough, the first people either of the two bases were Washington and Carolina. The two of them both looked tired, neither of them wearing their armor as they set out on a light jog. Just like normal, both of them dipped out of view behind Red Base, and Locus looked away from the rifle. Everything was normal.

 _The only thing that isn’t normal seems to be me_ , Locus thought to himself. It only served to throw himself more off balance.

After five minutes of watching and waiting, and once he was relaxed, Locus got out of the chair.

Locus settled in on the floor with his back pressed up against the wall behind him. Behind his helmet, he let his eyes slip shut for just the moment. Locus was still exhausted, but he didn’t know that he’d get a chance to sleep again. Even if he did, he didn’t know that he’d be able to. So instead Locus would wait. He'd get up to join the Reds and Blues for their morning exercises later. If he joined when the rest of them got up, then he'd be able to avoid having to talk to Washington or Carolina alone.

In addition, the Reds and Blues didn’t know that he was back on Iris yet. The sooner he made himself known, the sooner he would be once again left alone.

The night before still sat uncomfortably in his stomach. He'd gotten back to Iris, allowed himself a shower, and then had dragged himself to Carolina's room almost immediately. He'd been there for maybe fifteen minutes before she'd figured him out and decided to send him away. At some point in the future, the two of them were going to need to talk about what had happened. Locus didn't know what he'd be able to say for himself.

She knew something was wrong.

But it wasn't something simple. He didn't know how he could tell her, or anyone about what he'd encountered.

Mostly, he wanted to forget.

He didn't know how long he sat there exactly, but the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to the burned out watchtower did alert him to having company. The Reds and Blues still weren’t up. It could only have been one of the Freelancers, and yet before he could even think about it, Locus' hand was hovering over his sword where it was attached to his thigh. He opened his eyes. "What?"

"Hey." Carolina greeted him. "I figured that you'd be up here."

Locus sighed. "Yes." He mumbled, drawing his hand back away from the key. "Is there something wrong?"

"No." Carolina stepped into view, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Not for me."

Locus closed his eyes again and nodded slowly. "Good."

Carolina sighed. "Mind if I sit with you?"

 _Yes_. Locus thought silently, but he instead gestured to the two chairs. Carolina took a seat in one of them without questioning it at all. Locus didn’t budge from the seat on the floor that he’d taken.

She stared down at him, unwavering. Locus let out a breath. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Yeah." Carolina admitted. "Did you know that none of the guys had any idea that you were back?"

"I assumed." Locus sighed. "I got here last night and..." His voice trailed off and he shrugged in the hopes that it could have explained what he was doing there. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall a little bit more. "I only went to see you."

"Right." Carolina mumbled. "You should try and join all of us for coffee later. I'm sure that the guys would be glad to see you."

Locus stared into space, and felt the discomfort from the days before rush back all at once. He didn't know that he could actually make himself even  _want_ to be around other people just yet. He couldn't even sleep right since it had all happened. He still didn't know that he was going to be able to explain it. If he did, he didn't know that he would get a good reaction for it. The last thing that he wanted to have was any of the Reds and Blues pitying him. He didn’t deserve their pity.

"I'll think about it." He said.

"And I'm guessing Tucker making pancakes won't sway you?"

"Did Tucker say he was making pancakes?"

Carolina let out a snort, the kind that said that both of them knew perfectly well that Tucker  _never_ said he was going to make pancakes, and that he just ended up making them anyways. Most of the time it was because it was a good way to start the whole team off on a good morning... that and Locus suspected that it was an attempt at bribing Carolina and Washington into letting him and Caboose skip participation in morning drills.

"Understood." Locus mumbled.

Carolina set her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He didn't feel that much, not through the gel layer of his armor. "C'mon." She said softly, like it was almost an order. "Sitting around up here isn't going to do anything. And the guys are going to be getting up soon. You might as well come and say hello and eat.“

She was right. Locus knew perfectly well that Carolina was right, and that she wasn't going to let him say no. Locus let out a quiet sigh and got back to his feet before unrigging his rifle from where he'd left it. Carolina went to the door and started on the way out of the tower. Moments later, Locus followed her out of it.

Waiting there in the clearing was Washington, who stood there tall and offered an awkward sort of hello to Locus.

Locus returned it, because it was at least for the best that he tried to be polite while he tried to figure out what was going on in his head.


	4. 11 Days Ago: 2 PM, Interplanetary Standard Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reds and Blues reached out to Locus looking for answers.

“Help.” The radio transmission crackled once more for the fiftieth time, Locus finally able to make out more of it than he had been before. It had been playing on a constant loop since he’d first received it. “This is the Bab—” The voice scrambled again, like the person who had sent out the transmission had been doing so with a failing system. “-Requesting aid—”  The voice was panicked. “-Engines—” Afraid. “Please send help as soon as—”

Locus swallowed as the transmission looped back to the beginning, nearly as scrambled as it had been before. Since he’d finished armoring and arming himself, Locus hadn’t had anything to do on A’rynasea but try and decode the message further. It had let to him jotting down notes to try and decode the full message. Some things he was able to figure out through extrapolation, but most of it was just too unclear. 

It didn’t do anything for his nerves. He was still looking at going into a situation just as lacking in useful intelligence as he had been when he’d begun on his way. 

But yet it looped again, and Locus kept his pen in hand in the hopes that he could make more sense of what he already had. The transmission barely let out single intelligible syllable before A’rynasea let out the sound that meant that there was an incoming message.  Locus didn’t bother to look who it would be. There was only one possible source that had his contact information. 

For the first time, Locus paused the replaying transmission. He set the pen down and stretched his hands. “A’rynasaea.” He said. “Play message.” 

Within seconds, there was an image of the Reds and Blues on the heads up display at the front of his ship. At the front, Grif shifted and Locus sighed because he realized then that he was dealing with a video call. Of all the things that it could have been, it was about the last thing that he wanted to deal with.

Mostly, because he would either end up wasting a lot of time or with a headache. Neither were things he could afford. 

“Hello.” He greeted the Reds and Blues, forcing himself to come off as relatively personable. Locus doubted that it worked. 

“Hello?” Caboose all but shouted. “Hello? Locus?”

“Hello Caboose.” Locus sighed. “Is there something wrong?” He asked the Reds and Blues. If something was wrong, they had two Freelancers to help them for the time being. The two of them, along with Tucker, would be able to help look after them until he had a chance to join them once he was done. Even if something was wrong, Locus couldn’t afford to drop everything and rush back to Iris. Not when he was answering an SOS.

The one to answer his question was not Caboose, which was a good thing in its own respect. 

“Nothing is wrong.” Washington spoke up, edging his way to the front of the crowded image.Grif made a face when the fully armored Freelancer nudged against him to get to the front. He didn’t see Carolina anywhere, which meant that he could at least  _ breathe.  _ One less thing to worry about. “We saw that your ship was gone and got worried.” 

“I apologize.” Locus sighed, suddenly aware of how tired he was. “I’m on a—” 

“ _ Job? _ ” Washington asked, almost accusingly. “Or something else?” 

Locus sighed and looked to the side. The transmission was still paused, ready for him to listen to it once more. “Something else.” He said, since it was the truth. “Nothing official as of now. I can’t talk about it too much at the moment.” 

Washington frowned and shook his head. “Right.” He muttered. Locus had no doubts that Washington was probably assuming that he had taken up a bounty or something similar. “You’re going to be coming back though, right?”

“I am.” Locus said. “Once this is taken care of.” The transmission light at his side lit up. He swallowed. “A’rynasea, track that transmission.” He ordered, and the ship lights blinked in confirmation that it was what he thought it was. Locus looked back at the group of the Reds and Blues. “I don’t have the time for this. I’ll call when I’m on my way back. I don’t know how long it will be.” 

Wash looked over at Grif, who offered a little shrug in response. 

“Sounds good, man.” Grif said. “We’ll see you.” 

“Of course.” Locus replied before saying his goodbye and closing out the call. 

Locus immediately turned his attention to the newest transmission that had come in. For the first time since he'd first intercepted the SOS, it came through clearly.  

"This is an SOS." An exhausted sounding woman said. Her voice was the same as the one in the SOS that Locus had intercepted. "This is the Babylon. We're a colony ship-" Barely audble, there was the sound of another voice beside the woman. "We need help from  _ anyone  _ that can bring it. Our thrusters are down and we can't make contact for help. Our engines are failing and—" Her voice cracked. "And our food supply is exhausted." 

She paused. “We don’t have much time left. Please, if you can do anything to help, please help us.” 

The words were enough to make Locus take the controls of his ship. It sounded like an even more dire situation than Locus had been initially anticipating. THere was a possibility that he could get there and at the least help aid the Babylon to safety. He didn't have much in the way of supplies beyond the scant amount that he'd brought along with him. Certainly not enough to feed a colony ship. 

His best hope was that he could find them, help them get their engines back online, and escort them to the nearest planet. His second resort was to run to get them aid from more capable sources. Shuttling people on A'rynasea would be too difficult, since he could only do two or three at a time.

"A'rynasea, connect me tp The Babylon." He said. Moments later, he heard of the click of the receiver. 

"Hello?" The woman asked him. "Who's there?" 

"This is the A'rynasea." Locus explained himself, without giving any additional information. "Responding to your distress signal." 

The woman went silent. Just barely in the background he could make out the whispering about how it was an alien ship. It set him on edge, it made him grit his teeth because it was something that he couldn't help. It was the name of his ship, it was an alien ship and truthfully—

Years before, he would have had a panicked reaction to it too. He couldn't blame whoever was on the other end for whatever they were feeling. The ship’s name wasn’t important though. Getting them help was important.

He decided that it was for the best that he keep on talking to keep them calm. "I can't help you without knowing more about what is happening." 

"Right." The woman whispered. "Engines are out, we're out of food supplies, and we're not sure how much we have left as far as oxygen supply goes. We’re pretty sure that the reclaimer is failing." She took a shuddering breath. "How much help can you bring?" 

"I'm going to alert authorities to your situation." Locus said. "There's a possibility of merchant transports in the same quadrant. They will be able to do more than I can alone." 

Before he could even ask the ship to, he saw a message pop up on his heads up display that told him in no uncertain terms that the message he'd intercepted was already being broadcast out by A'rynasea's own powerful communications systems. 

"Right." The woman said. "I don't know how long we have." 

"Understood." Locus replied. "I have a fighter class ship. I'll be there soon now. Can you transmit your exact location to me?" 

"Yes, of course." The woman said. There was a slight pause while Locus waited for the exact coordinates to come through. Once they appeared, Locus felt the sinking dread that settled down in his stomach when he realized that he wasn't close to wherever the Babylon was. He could only provide small amounts of aid, and he couldn't trust that merchant ships could move as quickly as A'ryansea could. 

He tried his best to shake the discomfort and worry off, though it wasn't likely to be enough for him. It would be back soon enough, as it always was. Locus set course and pushed A'rynasea to the highest speeds that it could manage. "I'm on my way. If you can, leave communication lines open and I'll will maintain contact." 

"Okay." The woman said. "Thank you, sir." 

Locus let out a breath. "I'm on my way."


	5. Present Day: Tuesday, 8 PM, Iris Local Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the present, Grif gets Locus to try to break put of his shell.

Since his arrival back on Iris, Locus had found that falling back into  _ any  _ sort of routine with the Reds and Blues again was difficult. Every time that Locus felt like he was getting too close to them, he ended up just pulling back away as though he were something poisonous to the touch. Most of the Reds and Blues seemed to understand that he was looking for space or breathing room. The only exceptions were Carolina, who understood that he was  _ not  _ looking for space, but rather trying to avoid them and talking about where he’d been, Sarge, who insisted on him “returning to his duties on Red Team,” (of which there were none), and Caboose, who simply didn't seem to care and just wanted to spend time with a friend.

In Locus’ normal return schedule, he would have already moved back into one of the bases so that he wasn't sleeping on his ship. Since all of his belongings fit into one duffel bag and a plastic tote (with the exception of his armor and arsenal) moving wasn’t much of a hassle. 

He’d decided instead to forego the option of moving back in. On A’rynasea he was  _ understood. _ He may have been alone, but he was still understood. The odd little AI that controlled the vessel always understood him, even when Locus didn’t understand himself. It was one of the few saving graces that made the isolation more palatable.

All that he really needed was the little bunk that was folded into the wall at the back of the ship. The bed was comfortable, but after a while Locus always started feeling cramped and claustrophobic. It was meant for someone much larger than him, but the enclosed nature of the space got to him. It always did, eventually. Once he started feeling like he couldn’t stand his bunk anymore, Locus would get up and walk around Iris until he was too tired to worry anymore. 

Sometimes he’d let himself sleep in one of the twenty or so sniper’s nests that he’d established in the area surrounding Red and Blue base. Usually he’d go back to A’rynasea. Once he’d found Caboose in one of his nests, having confused it for a tree house. Locus hadn’t felt like arguing the point and so he’d left Caboose to hammer up the “NO REDS ALOWD” sign onto it.

Three days after his re-arrival, Locus was awoken early in the morning by the sound of someone rapping their knuckles against the solid metal door of his ship. It rang through the space, an almost painful horribly annoying sound which  _ almost _ reminded him of how Felix would wake him in the middle of the night when they were still on the Tartarus. There was no biting knife-sharp laugh behind the raps, no sign that it was Felix. No sign of who it could be at all.

Locus jolted awake, his chest heaving and his heart beating too hard against his chest. His mouth was dry. Sweat lingered on his skin. Locus blinked a few times and stood up and walked to the door to the ship. On his way up, he grabbed up his pistol just in case it was someone looking for him. Bounty hunters would track and locate someone in their own home. Chorus military and police were looking for him and they wouldn't hesitate either. Realistically, there was always a possibility that he’d get caught in a raid on one of his dwellings eventually. 

If it were the Chorusans, he would surrender. 

If it were bounty hunters, he'd do what so many of the people that he'd tracked down in his old career would have done too. He'd fight back, and then run if he got the chance. 

The only ones that he’d allow to catch him would be the people of Chorus. Not someone in search of glory and a paycheck. Not someone that was like how he and Felix had been. Before.

But he walked to the door and rested a hand against it. He swallowed and growled out a few words. "What do you want?" 

"Uh." Grif's voice came from the other side. He rapped his knuckles against the door again, just for good measure. "It's Grif. Open up." 

Locus rolled his eyes and pulled the door open. He didn’t bother to put down the pistol. No use to it. " _ What? _ " 

Grif smiled at him and held up a small box of unlabeled beer bottles as a sort of peace offering. "I wanted to hang out. It's like eight at night, what are you doing sleeping? I thought you were nocturnal or some shit."

Locus blinked. He hadn’t even realized that it was so late. "I... was tired." He sighed as he stepped out of the way so that Grif could join him on A'rynasea. Grif wasted absolutely no time in making himself comfortable as he dropped down into the co-pilot's seat. Locus closed the door and went to the pilot's seat and turned in it so that he could look across at Grif. He was glad that the heads up display was still dark. He hadn't been able to justify clearing everything on it just yet. He was still monitoring the situation with the Babylon, even though it was mostly resolved.

Grif stretched. "Today totally sucked." He started. "Fucking Sarge blew up the microwave again, and now Lopez is hiding, so Simmons is all pissed off and  _ Donut— _ " Grif shrugged his shoulders, a clear sign that he didn't quite know what else to say. "You totally could have fixed all of it. So fucking stupid." 

"I would doubt that." Locus mumbled. Grif offered him one of the beers, which Locus accepted and opened quickly before taking the first drink. It was bitter and unpleasant. Grif had mentioned that he and Kai had wanted to try brewing something. If Locus had to guess, it was the barely successful result that he was drinking. "Sarge tends to do whatever he wants."

"Yeah, I know." Grif muttered. "Just wish you were around. Shit sucks when you're gone, you know that?"

He  _ didn't _ know that. Locus was under the impression that the Reds and Blues were happier when he  _ wasn't _ there. Or rather, he was sure that they hadn't forgotten how much he'd done wrong. He certainly couldn't have. It was part of the reason that he liked to try and keep some distance from them for his own sake. He had only decided to stay further away because he needed to deal with his own issues first.

"I was busy." He explained, in the hopes that it would get Grif to forget about his absence. 

The less that he needed to say to explain himself, the better. 

"So?" Grif asked. "You're usually acting like...  _ normal  _ by now. What the hell's going on?" He leaned in slightly. "You aren't doing the Freelancer thing and hiding from us because you're hurt, are you? Because if you have like 6 broken ribs or something, everyone's gonna be pissed."

"I am uninjured." 

"Yeah, okay,  _ sure _ ." Grif muttered. "Something is still up." He jabbed an accusing finger in Locus’ direction.

"Nothing is wrong." Locus insisted. "If you only came here to interrogate me—" 

He must have let out the words in more of a growl than he'd been intending, if Grif's reaction was any sort of indication. He pulled back and stared back at Locus, wide-eyed. "Locus, what's..."

" _ Nothing is wrong. _ " Locus repeated one last time, in the hopes that the topic would finally get dropped. "Please, just..." He took a breath, hopeful that it would calm the beating of his heart in his chest. He needed to be able to relax. He forced himself to have another swig of the unpleasant brew that Grif had brought him. "Tell me more about what's going on with Red Team." 

"Okay." Grif mumbled. "I'll fucking drop it." He sipped his beer. "We're having movie night in like an hour." 

Locus raised an eyebrow. 

"Yeah." Grif explained. "I kind of came to see if I could get you to come. We invited all the Blues over, so we figured we should invite you too. Especially since you've been all..." He gestured vaguely, and Locus nodded. "Yeah. So. Movies. You should come over, it's going to be fun."

As much as Locus  _ wanted  _ to say no, he knew that if he did so it would only end up causing more trouble than he wanted to have to deal with on that day. He took a deep breath and nodded before he sipped once again from the neck of the bottle that he had. 

Grif grinned. "Awesome, dude." He said. 

For the next hours, the two of them finished off the six pack of beers (with Locus drinking more than he knew he should have, not that he let it be commented on.) Once it was time for the movie night to start, the two of them headed off to Red Base. 

Sure enough, there was already a commotion in the lounge that could be heard from even outside of the base. Grif didn't give him a chance to hesitate. A part of him knew that he should have done something to try and bring some sort of food to the gathering. It would have been  _ polite _ , and it would have also distracted them all away from his absence. 

The two of them stepped into the lounge.

Grif bee lined off to flop down on the couch with Simmons, which meant that it was up to him to look for a place to sit. On one of the love seats to the side of the room, Carolina and Wash were curled up under a ragged golden yellow blanket. Carolina picked her head up and looked at him. He nodded to acknowledge her, and walked over to seat himself on the floor next to her and Wash's love seat. She was close enough to him that she could touch him. 

Once the movie started and everyone was distracted, Locus felt the scratch of her nails against his scalp. For that moment, he let his eyes slip shut as he leaned into the touch. 

She played with his hair through most of the movie, inconspicuous and gentle.

It was the first real comfort that he'd felt since he'd responded to The Babylon’s distress signal.


	6. 10 Days Ago: 1:33 AM, Interplanetary Standard Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hours of tracking its SOS, Locus locates The Babylon.

The initial report that the ship he was responding to, The Babylon, was a colony sized ship proved to be entirely accurate, much to Locus’ concern.  

Based on the look of the ship when it finally peeked into A’rynasea’s line of sight, it looked like it had been stranded for some time. The engines were dead, not a single sign of light to be found. Not even from the areas which  _ should _ have served as observation decks. 

It was worrying. If the ship didn’t have enough power for light, there was no question that there would be other systems without power. Locus’ only concerns were which ones would end up being down. Artificial gravity was manageable. Life support was not.  Any systems which were meant to be able to compensate for the loss of main power needed to be online. 

If they weren’t, Locus knew what he’d find. 

He didn’t want to have to find it. But he knew. 

As A’rynasea circled the ship, Locus hesitated and took one last breath of the heavily oxygenated air of his ship before he pulled on his helmet and reached for the set of weaponry he’d chosen to take with him. Sniper rifle and shotgun, key at his thigh. If he had a choice he’d take in more, but he didn’t know what he’d have to do once he was in. Going in too heavily armed would make him look more of a threat than a rescuer. 

Once he was ready, Locus spoke. "A'rynasea, attempt to make communications with The Babylon. Open channels, unencrypted transmission." 

The transmission began, and Locus spoke. "Babylon, come in. This is the pilot of the ship A’rynasea. I am responding to your distress signal." 

There was the quiet clicking sound that Locus knew to be the sign that the message went through. There was, however, no immediate response. Locus swallowed hard and tried to think of a reason that there wouldn’t be a response. It had only been hours since he’d last made contact with the colony vessel. 

For instance, it was possible that the ship lacked lights because it was in the middle of its simulated night cycle. The interplanetary clock on A’rynasea indicated that it was one in the morning. It would make sense. It was also possible that power had been diverted away from providing light for more crucial systems. One of those systems would theoretically be communications. 

Even if he’d gotten there as quickly as he could, there had still been five hours between his last contact with The Babylon and that moment. Five hours was enough time for things to fail, especially if The Babylon had been stranded for some time. Which it clearly had been. 

He was tired, but he had to wait until after The Babylon was cared for. Only then could he allow himself to rest when the timeline seemed to desperate. Once The Babylon had received aid, and he was officially without any sort of assignment, regardless of whether it was official or not, then Locus could allow himself to rest. 

"Babylon, this is the A'rynasea. I am responding to your distress signal, please respond." He couldn’t stop the hint of panic that crept its way into his voice at the realization that he may be speaking to nobody. 

At the realization that with all likelihood, he was too late to help.

There was once again silence. Horrible, crushing silence. 

The only explanations were that either The Babylon’s power supply wasn’t supporting communications anymore, or that there was nobody left. 

No time to lose, then. 

Locus took A’ryansea’s controls manually. He steered the ship in closer to the Babylon in search of any sign of life or at least a docking bay. An open docking bay was his only option. A closed one couldn’t be opened without power. If there was an open docking bay, then he could at least board and seek out survivors.

The hangars were on the left side of the Babylon. It was a relief to find them, but that feeling of relief was quickly dashed when he realized that every hangar there was open, and empty. The emptiness created a deep crevice in the ship’s hull, which Locus steered into with the aid of A’rynasea’s proximity sensors. 

The first thing that struck Locus was how eerie the empty space of the hangar was. He drove A’rynasea as far in as he could, since he had a feeling that being able to make a fast getaway could be important. He didn’t want to take chances. 

With A’ryansea parked, Locus gave his weaponry one last look over to be sure that he would be able to rely on them. Satisfied, he strapped the sniper rifle across his back and decided to carry the shotgun. In close quarters there was only so much that the rifle could do, but if he somehow found himself in hostile territory he’d want it. 

If he found himself in hostile territory, then he’d have other problems since he was about to walk straight into unfamiliar terrain. 

The last thing that he did before he unboarded A’rynasea was attach his sword to the magnetic strip on his thigh. He didn’t think he’d need it. Pulling it out would probably be anything but beneficial in the end. But he needed it there on his person. It was the reason that he had set out to do good in the first place. Without it, he never would have found himself on the Babylon in the first place. He never would have gotten its distress signal. 

He needed it. That was all that there was to it. 

He was there to do good. Locus knew that. 

He still needed the reminder.

By the door, Locus hesitated for a too long moment as he looked upon the jet pack that was boxed on the ship. It was possible that he could  _ need  _ it, but he had grav boots to at least make sure that he could stay grounded. The jet pack could help him move faster, but only by so much. 

If he found himself in open space for any reason, he’d need the jet pack. 

It was better to be prepared for anything, Locus reminded himself. He attached the jet pack to his armor and took the second to double check that it was secured in place before A'rynasea finally released him out of its air locked interior, and into the emptiness of the docking bay. 

And  _ empty  _ was the truth. The reason that all of the hangars had been left open was obvious. All of the ships that would have been docked there had already left. That meant that there were people out there that knew about The Babylon in theory.  People that could have reported its plight to the proper authorities. People that could have brought back help. 

If that was the case, then where the hell were those people? 

Cold dread settled in the pit of Locus’ stomach, strong, bigger, impossible to ignore. 

He was not, he suspected, responding to a run of the mill engine failure. 

Wherever the people on those ships had ended up, they’d gone to a chance at survival. They were lucky. 

Locus told himself that they had gone to look to survive. Telling himself that was easier than facing the worse, more likely truth. 

Almost immediately after stepping off of his ship, Locus realized that the dock had no gravity, artificially generated or otherwise. He activated his boots as soon as he realized it and let himself lock onto the metal floor beneath him. Locus allowed himself one last look at his ship over his shoulder, and began the trek across the hangar. On the far end he could see an airlocking door. All he had to do was get through it and he’d be inside. 

Rushing to the doors would risk scaring any survivors, so Locus had to  _ force  _  himself to walk. 

The doors were at the far side of the bay, illuminated only by a dim red emergency light which clearly signaled that The Babylon did have some power, however it was emergency supply and likely only enough to care for the bare minimums. Locus knocked at the wide metal door, and got no response from the other side. He knocked again, and once again was met with nothing from whatever was on the other side of the doors. When his third attempt was yet another failure, Locus let out an annoyed huff.

If he wanted to get into the airlock and into The Babylon after that, he’d have to let himself in. If he was careful he could make it onboard without destroying the air supply inside. Locus wasn’t certain that he actually knew the way to make such a thing happen. The sword would be able to slice through the metal like butter. 

It was too simple to let himself in. Making repairs later would be far less so. 

However, there were few other options as any ringing and knocking was being met with absolutely no response of any sort. Finally, after too much deliberation, Locus reached for the sword. With a quick flick of his wrist, it buzzed alive in his hand with a distinctive sound. There was a heat that radiated off of it, one which was too hot but also comforting at the same time. If he were out of armor the heat would have been nearly painful.

Even though it wasn’t his best option, Locus began to cut. 

Cutting through the door was too easy, like butter. The metal simply melted away under his blade and Locus was able to simply step straight through into the airlock itself. There was another door on the other side, this one made of highly durable glass like he'd seen on many ships before in his life. When he looked in, there was nobody there at the door to meet him. There were no signs of people at all, in fact. It could only be a sign that Locus had either come late, come after they'd been rescued (he had been able to make contact with merchant fleets, although none reached out to him), or all of the ship's inhabitants that were left alive were hiding out in a safe designated area onboard. 

Which the case was, he didn't know. 

But, he reminded himself as he spotted a button in the room which he slammed his hand against in the hopes that it could do something, there were still red lights, which meant that there was still  _ some _ power.

There was a quiet hissing, and then the door did open for him. Locus stepped inside of the ship and let himself deactivate his grav boots so that he could at least test whether or not the ship had any sort of gravity active. When Locus felt the gentle tug upwards, he reactivated the boots and made a note of it. All that he could do was venture further and further into the belly of the Babylon and see whether or not he found anyone or anything at all.

The further that he walked inside, the less hopeful he began to feel. 

Bit by bit, the reality of the situation settled in more and more. 

It only served to make Locus feel worse.


	7. Present Day: Sunday, 1:21 AM, Iris Local Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a movie night with the Reds and Blues, Carolina gets Locus alone.

Even though it was difficult for him to manage, Locus managed to stay with the others until the movie finished. Once it was complete the entire room exploded into action, with some waking others, and a few people scattering off in the hopes that they could get away with avoiding cleaning up after movie night. It was a task which nobody ever wanted to have to do but someone always ended up needing to do. 

Locus decided to make off before he could get roped into cleaning duty. The less time that he spent with the others, the better. 

His ship welcomed him by rolling down its door as soon as he stepped into view of it. Locus ducked inside and let the door close behind him. Again he returned back into solitude. 

Locus stretched his back and turned his neck to the side as though he were trying to work out a kink in it. Sitting on the floor hadn’t exactly been the most comfortable thing. 

He may have been on his ship alone for all of ten minutes before there was a quiet knock against A’rynasea’s hull. 

It could have been any of the Reds and Blues, Locus thought. They’d come all the way out to A’rynasea for some reason. Te least he could do was humor them. 

Locus approached the door and gently pressed his hand to the panel which allowed for it to roll down. When it was finished, it revealed Carolina standing there with the blanket that she'd spent the evening wrapped up in draped around her shoulders. She looked cold, and so Locus had no choice but to step aside and let her in. 

“Locus.” Carolina greeted him. “You ran off quicker than you usually do.”    


“I apologize.” Locus sighed heavily. “I’ll come and help clean in the morning.” 

The look that Carolina gave him in response could only be described as perplexed. Had he misread the situation? 

“Wash and Tucker decided they were cleaning up, if you can imagine that.” Carolina said with a shrug. “Something about making sure that it was done.” The soft blanket wrinkled with the motion. “I just wanted to get a chance to talk to you before you went off to bed.” 

Locus gestured toward the seats at the front of the ship. He hadn’t bothered to let the bunk down yet. Carolina looked to the two seats and frowned before she looked back at him, direct and straight in his eyes. 

He swallowed. “What is it?”

“I wanted to thank you for coming out and letting us see you.” Carolina said as she gave in and allowed herself to take a seat in the co-pilot’s chair. She pulled the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders. “And I wanted to—” She hesitated. Fidgeted with the hem of the blanket with the tips of her fingers. “And I also wanted to ask whether or not you’d be against staying in the base tonight.” 

“As you can see…” Locus began. “I’d been planning to return to my ship for the rest of the night.” It wasn’t a good explanation. It made it too obvious that he’d been planning to avoid them more. It ignored the too open invitation that Carolina’s question had left. 

He wanted to take it. He wanted to take it so badly that it hurt. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t just go back to her room with her and act as though he hadn’t been thrown out nights before all because he couldn’t get out of his own head. He was still stuck there. 

His stomach twisted. “I apologize.” 

Carolina’s frown deepened but she hummed as though it were somehow helping her focus to do so. “Well, at the very least, I’m sure there are patrols to be done. It’s late so it’d be short.” 

“And you are inviting me?” Locus asked. 

“It’s always better to do patrols in pairs, right?” Carolina asked him. “Buddy system always keeps everyone safer.” 

His arsenal was right there. He didn’t even have to put on his armor if they were going to go out on a patrol of some sort. The Reds and Blues were used to seeing the two of them do late patrols together. They never thought anything of it, at least to Locus’ knowledge they didn’t. 

“I suppose so.” Locus replied, even as he felt a slight, traitorous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It is always better to patrol in pairs.” He echoed her, unable to think of anything else to say. 

Carolina leaned back in the seat. “I guess you should get what you need for it, then.”    


Locus gave her a  _ look _ and only went to the table where his sniper rifle had been laid earlier. He’d already been through the process of cleaning the parts that day. He picked it up carefully, turned it over in his hands. It was the same weapon that he was used to, and yet his stomach twisted uncomfortably when he held it. 

He needed to get his shit together, as Felix would have put it. 

Locus strapped the weapon over his back and Carolina waited by the door for him. She still had the blanket over her shoulders. She wasn’t armed. 

She wasn’t actually asking him to go on patrol with her. 

Locus felt some heat begin to rise on his cheeks. "I’m ready." 

She shot him a smile and then stepped out into the cool night air. Locus followed behind her and heard more than saw A’rynasea’s doors close behind him. More worryingly, he heard the sound of the door latching shut. Locking with a low thump. 

Either it wasn’t going to let him back in, or it was simply trying to make sure that nobody else got in. As of that moment, Locus wasn’t sure which was the truth. 

He gave the door one last second of consideration before he and Carolina set out for their false patrol. As long as one of them was armed, nobody would consider there to be anything strange about it. 

Carolina tilted her head back as they walked. “So,” She began. “Mind if I ask you what made you want to come to movie night when you’ve been avoiding everyone so much lately?”   


“Grif did.” Locus said, keeping his voice down. “He made a convincing argument.”    


“And do you think that you would have come if he hadn’t gone along to try and convince you?” Carolina asked. 

If Grif hadn’t come along with strong drinks in tow, Locus was sure that he would have ended up turning the orange clad man down. He would have stayed out in A’rynasea on his own where nobody else was likely to ever bother him. 

There was a vocal part of his mind which was certain that Carolina was only asking for the sake of asking. If Locus had to guess, she already knew the answer. 

“I don’t know.” Locus lied. “I haven’t felt up to being around everyone as of late.”    


“Trust me when I say that I’m aware.” Carolina chuckled. But all too quickly the levity in her dissipated. “You’re going to have to talk about whatever is on your mind eventually. I don’t know what happened when you were out there, but this…” She stared him down, stepped straight into his path so he couldn’t have any chance of escaping her. “This isn’t healthy.” 

And god, if she couldn’t have told him something that he didn’t already know. Locus knew it wasn’t healthy. He'd never had a single healthy coping mechanism in forty odd years of life. Not having healthy coping mechanisms was how he ended up with a name other than his own. It was how he ended up on Chorus with Felix. It was how he ended up with his closest friends dead. It was how he had made such a mess of his life. 

“I know.”    


“So why are you avoiding it so much?” Carolina prodded. Her tone harshened enough that Locus took a step back just to put the space back between the two of them. Badly needed space. Desperately needed space. “Does it have to do with Charon? Felix?”

“Neither.” Locus growled back. “I know that I’m avoiding it. I just don’t know how I can talk to anyone about—” He cut himself off, frustrated. He didn’t know how to talk about it. That was all that there was to it. “It’s too complicated.” Was all that he was really able to offer. It was true. Just not the answer that Carolina or anyone else would have wanted to get out of him. 

He would have been angry if he were in their place. 

Regardless, every hope that he’d had for a nice night had drifted away before his eyes. 

“Were you at least trying to do good?”

“Yes.” Locus said. “I’m just not very good at it.” 

“Are you telling me the truth when you say that or are you just trying to get me to drop it?” She stared back at him with intense too green eyes. He'd always liked the color green. Her gaze was so intense that it almost made him want to shrink back just so that he could get out from under it.    


“I’m telling you the truth.” Locus sighed heavily. “I haven’t stopped trying to do good. It's why I was out there in the first place. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to—” He shook his head. “I can’t even think about what I was dealing with. Talking about it is worse.” He wrapped his arms around himself, closing himself off as much as he could. He didn’t know why he felt the need to. Felix would have mocked him for it. “I’m sorry.” 

Carolina let out a heavy sigh, regret heavy in her gaze. “You know that you  _ can _ talk to me, right?” She asked him, genuine concern in her voice. “I understand. We’ve both been through a lot of shitty things on the battlefield. We’ve both done even worse.” 

_ False equivalency, _ Locus thought but didn’t dare voice. It wouldn’t have done him any good to do so. 

Carolina sighed. “I know that what we’ve done aren’t the same thing. But I think talking could do you some good. I know for me it helped once I had the chance to actually do it.”   


“You were manipulated.” Locus said, clenching his fists and trying not to think about how they were drenched in blood. “It’s different.” 

“You were manipulated too.” Carolina protested. “And being manipulated doesn’t make it better.” 

“I went to Chorus of my own accord.” Locus said, his voice low. He was glad that it was just the two of them for the moment. If the others heard him, he would have had some serious trouble to contend with. They wouldn’t have forgiven him. He still couldn’t believe that they let him stay there with them normally. “And now I can’t correct anything that I’ve done. And I’ll never be able to.” 

Silence hung between the two of them. "So what happened?" Carolina finally asked, after too long of a pause. “You were trying to do something good. What happened?” 

There was no chance that he’d be able to avoid it. Locus checked over his shoulder just to be certain that it was just the two of them for the moment. He’d have to tell her, but he could only think of one place where he could do it and do it comfortably. One place that would be safe. 

“When we’re back on my ship.” Locus said, since he was apparently extending the invitation for Carolina to stay the night if she wanted to. “I’ll tell you once we’re there.” 

“That bad?”

“I’d rather we have the privacy.” Locus said. “Please.”   


Carolina gave him a look. “I guess that it’s good that I already have a blanket if I need to stay the night then, isn’t it?”

Locus’ stomach churned. “I suppose so.”    


Somehow, Locus wasn’t entirely sure how, the two of them managed to finish the patrol in relative silence. They reached A’rynasea and the ship opened up for them without prompting. Even as Locus was exhausted and ready to go to bed, there was something else that he needed to attend to first. 

He and Carolina sat down in the pilot and co-pilot’s seats. Locus took a breath. “A’rynasea.” He commanded. “Bring up the tracked information from our last mission.” 

The ship didn’t question. Instead, the display at the front of the cockpit simply came to life in light. 

Carolina stared, wide-eyed at what was there. 

Locus let her have a moment, and then he began to try to explain himself. 


	8. 10 Days Ago: 2:31 AM, Interplanetary Standard Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Locus searches The Babylon for survivors.

Once he got past the airlocks and into The Babylon’s normally-inhabitable behavior, it took Locus three and a half minutes before he found the first sign of humanity onboard. 

She was a young woman, likely no more than the age of sixteen if he had to guess. 

He found her body floating in what had once been a hallway, her body curled in on itself all wrong as she bumped into the ship walls. Her skin had already gone grey, once-cinnamon colored freckles washed out and wrong looking. The girl bumped into the ship walls again with a low thud. 

Locus reached out for her and gently pulled her back down toward the floor of the ship. It wouldn’t matter for long, but it was better than her being left to float and float and bump into walls. Almost as soon as he touched her hand, Locus could tell that she'd been dead for at least a little while. At least four hours. Probably longer, since The Babylon was almost equivalent to cold storage with most climate control systems offline.

It was one of the odd things that Locus had learned over years of killing. Bodies didn’t act the same way in space flight as they did everywhere else. In a way, it was a kinder fate. A body in space flight wouldn’t be harmed by bugs. It wouldn’t rot the same way, instead it would simply remain oddly frozen for some time. It wouldn’t bloat. It wouldn’t let off any noticeable smell. 

And even still, regardless of that change, Locus’ stomach twisted as though he’d just gotten the scent of death in his nostrils. 

Locus pushed himself away from the girl and continued on deeper. He couldn’t afford to give her a burial or funeral. He couldn’t do as much for anyone on the ship. Even tossing her out of an airlock was too easy, and yet too cruel. He couldn’t allow himself to linger on the girl any longer, not when he had a rescue to do. Not when he would have to see much more of the same. Not when he'd held children her age so many times at gunpoint and killed so many just like her. 

If he dwelled on it too long, it would only have catastrophic consequences. 

So all Locus did was take a breath of filtered air and continued onward. The only thing he could do was move forward and search for survivors. 

The only real good side to him having found the girl was that finding others wasn’t difficult either.  It looked like she’d been the last one to make a desperate sprint for the ship bay but hadn’t managed to get their in time. 

Locus found people. After the fifteenth he made a point to stop counting before he dug himself too deep in his own head. He found them tucked into rooms, not a single one looking as though they had died a violent death. There wasn’t any sign of a struggle at all. Every body he found seemed like they had simply suffocated, or starved. 

At least, that was how it was at first. 

The first sign of any true violence came in the form of two bodies in a hallway. Both had bullets in their heads, and were mostly nude. Like they’d been stripped for some purpose. Something about it was just off enough that Locus couldn’t put his finger on the logic of it. 

More odd, there wasn’t a weapon left in the room. 

He didn’t have the time for a more thorough investigation. If Locus had to guess, he would have found crates of MREs, or oxygen tanks, or even boxes of ammunition in the surrounding rooms. There had to be a reason, but he didn’t have the time to figure out a justification. 

Not that violence or killing was ever truly justified. He’d spent years desperately clinging to justifications which ultimately meant nothing. 

His heart clenched at the thought. 

Once more, he didn’t have the time to linger. 

For what felt like far too long, he passed from room to room, corridor to corridor, and hoped that he could eventually find someone or something that he could do to help. If he could even find one or two survivors, then he could have felt like he was okay with what he had found. That way it would feel so much less horrible. He could have tangible proof that he’d done  _ something. _

Why he felt bad for himself, he didn't know. Maybe it was because the whole thing felt too familiar, but this time he didn't know the people that he found dead. It was vastly impersonal. More impersonal than even Chorus had been. 

And yet he felt so much more. 

The rare saving grace came in the form of a posted blueprint of the ship, clearly meant to direct people toward the escape routes. Locus let himself glance back over his shoulder to double check once more that there were no survivors. It was as fruitless as he thought it would be. Without any further hesitation, Locus tore down the blueprint and followed it.

The Babylon’s control room was buried deep in the bowels of the ship. The doors that would have let him in were closed shut, and disabled so that nobody could get in. Whether it was by design or by accident due to power failure, Locus wasn’t sure. 

Either way, the hallway leading to those doors was littered with bodies. Bodies that had been there for hours at the very least, unable to do anything but float there in the zero gravity environment. Locus did his best to dodge them and get past the bodies without colliding with any of them. 

If the people that he’d contacted were still alive (and it was becoming a more and more significant  _ if  _ in his mind,) the control room was the only place where it made sense for them to be. 

And if they were, he didn't know whether or not he could justify saving them. Not when it seemed that they may have left people to perish as close to them as on the other side of a door. 

He had to do something.

Because it was the only thing he could do, Locus knocked against the door, waited, and listened closely.

"Who is it?" A voice called. "What do you want?" The person the voice belonged to was clearly panicked. 

It took a moment, but Locus managed to recognize the voice. It was the same woman that he’d managed to contact via ship to ship transmissions. Her voice was filtered by a helmet, the same way that his own was. Whoever it was that he was about to meet face to face, they had the protection of a high powered suit of armor like he did.

Armor which would have been enough to save the people of The Babylon if it was in great enough supply. Which it clearly wasn’t. 

"This is Isaac Gates." He called back through the door. Opting to use his code name as usual had the potential to only bring around more trouble than he wanted to deal with. Using his own name was too risky. If he used his partner’s name, nobody could truly work to pursue a dead man. "I am the pilot of the A'rynasea." 

There was silence on the other side of the door aside from the quiet sound of armored boots moving toward it. 

"You and I spoke via transmission after I got your SOS." Locus clarified, hopeful that he could get  _ some _ sort of reaction from the one behind the door. 

"The door is welded shut." The woman called through to him. "I can't open it if there's no oxygen on the other side." 

"You're wearing armor." Locus grumbled as he sparked his sword to life. "You can survive." 

"Wait-"The woman called. “How can you tell?”

Locus ignored the protest and went ahead to slice through the door and create an opening that he could step through. He didn’t need to answer this woman’s question when the answer was so obvious and she didn’t even realize it. 

The metal sliced away like butter. Locus only cut a hole large enough to ensure that he could get in, and then stepped in. 

The cockpit itself looked like it had only held four people in it at the time that it had been closed off t the rest of the shit. Three bodies were crowded into the corner of the room, and the woman was there pressed against the console at the back in full armor the color of primer grey. Locus stared her down as he stepped through the hole in the door and turned off the sword. He still had his shotgun in case he needed it. 

The woman raised her gun at him. 

"I'm not here to fight you." Locus said. "I was coming to rescue you." 

" _ You were too late. _ " The woman bit back at him, enraged. "Anyone else would have been too." 

"I apologize." Locus mumbled. He knew that any sort of apology wouldn't be enough to make up for what had happened. However, he had a feeling that this woman was not who he needed to be apologizing too. He had a feeling that she had doomed her people just as badly as his ability to get there on time had. 

He didn’t expect to ever get the full story. He didn’t know that it was something he ever wanted. 

She lowered the gun, slowly. Cautious. "So." She muttered. "You've seen what happened here, haven’t you?"

"I have." Locus responded. Already, he needed to make a plan. "How many people were on this ship?" It was information he could find easily. Asking let him get a read on her.  

The woman's helmet tilted down. "It doesn't matter anymore." She mumbled. "They're all dead anyways. We could have gotten help, but—" She shrugged. "The people that were here and meant to help left us to die. Like the bastards  _ knew _ this would happen." 

"So you welded yourself into a room with a set of armor and left your people to die." Hypocritical. He would have done the same. He knew for a fact that if it were him and Felix there wouldn’t have been any question. They would have saved themselves.

The woman pressed back further against the console and raised her pistol once more. Her hand shook. " _ I didn't say that _ ." 

Locus raised his shotgun in retaliation and stalked in close to her. The way that she was holding herself, it was clear that she was afraid. Her hands shaking told him that she didn’t know how to properly handle the weapon. It was possible that she’d already run out of ammunition and was bluffing. 

One of the last things that Locus wanted to do was assume that it would be safe. His armor could protect him, but it couldn’t protect him from everything. Regardless of what he saw, he had to take her seriously. 

"You didn't have to." Locus growled back at her. "I refuse to leave you here." He explained to the woman. "Thousands of people have died. Possibly tens of thousands." Locus gripped his shotgun just a little bit tighter. He was sure that he had a similar kill count, regardless of whether or not he'd been the one to fire the killing shots. He didn’t know whether leaving people to suffocate or starve was less cruel than shooting them. He’d never had to think on it before. 

The woman's head tilted down even more.

Locus squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath. He needed to make a decision about her. He could ask for a name, he could bring her in for arrest, he could see whether or not he could get information that would allow him to track those that she claimed to have abandoned the people of the Babylon. 

He wanted to imagine his own head alongside hers as he put a bullet into her skull. 

"You're coming with me, whether you like it or not." Locus growled at the woman. "I would recommend setting the gun down."

Her head snapped back up so that she could stare him in the eyes. " _ Why should I? _ " She shouted back at him. "Why should I go with you when I'm going to have to live with—" Again, the visor of her helmet subtly tilted away from Locus so that she could stare at the set of bodies that had been lain against the wall. "With  _ this _ ." 

Behind his own helmet, Locus frowned further. "I could leave you here to die instead." He said. "Your armor's air supply has its limits. Re-breathing can only last for so long, and in time your armor life support will begin to shut down.“  _ She isn’t military, _ Locus thought.  _ Any experience she has with the armor is minimal. _  ”With your ship in this state, you would surely die unless you resorted to extreme measures." He stared her down. He was glad that he had his helmet to hide his face and protect him from this woman. "It would not be a pleasant death." 

She lowered the pistol, in one drop of her arm. "And what happens if I go with you?"

Locus took a breath. "You'll be turned into the proper authorities, and they can deal with you from there." He told her, surprising himself with how honest his answer was. “With your cooperation, the authorities may be able to locate the men that you claim abandoned this ship. If you find yourself fortunate, you may be able to evade punishment yourself.” 

The woman nodded along in understanding. Defeated understanding. Her shoulders were slumped and she was holding the pistol almost loosely, pointed at the ground like she didn’t have the energy to hold it anymore. "You should leave me." She laughed bitterly. "Captain goes down with the ship, right?"

_ She isn't the captain, _ Locus thought, but didn’t dare vocalize. 

Locus shook his head and aimed his shotgun at her. "You're going to download any onboard files which would be of use onto a removable drive." He instructed. "Once you are done, you are coming with me to my ship, and I will turn you in at the nearest colony. Am I understood?"

And for the first time, she stared back at him. Intensely. "And why not just kill me?" She muttered. "You see what happened here. You know that I left the people around me to  _ die _ . Why do you insist on keeping me alive?" 

"Because it's the right thing to do." Locus responded. There was nothing else to it, in a way "And I refuse to let you go down with this unanswered for." 

She let out a heavy sigh which was harshened significantly by the voice filter on her helmet. "Gates, right?"

"Yes." Locus lied. "Now do what I've told you." 

She eyed him. "What happens if I refuse?" 

"Any chance of justice for these people dies with you." 

"And if I shoot you?"

"That isn't a concern." Locus bluffed. 

It was a concern. Not a significant one at the moment. Unless she hit him in the head, he would be able to rely on his life support systems in his armor to keep him alive. The gel layer of his under suit would slow the impact so he'd be less likely to come out of an incident with broken bones. The under suit could also provide the compression needed to help keep him from bleeding out. Locus had a strong suspicion that what this woman was capable of could loosely be defined as aiming.

She hesitated. "You're not going to let me say no, are you?" 

"Negative." 

The woman turned away from him and set the pistol down on the console beside her. Locus watched her press a few buttons in the hope that it would make the displays come to life. They flickered for a moment before defaulting to a low power mode. Just enough to ensure that they would be able to create a backup drive. 

She looked back over her shoulder at him. "Do you have a drive?" 

Locus removed one from one of the compartments in his armor and offered it to the woman. "Quickly."

"Right." She mumbled, her voice breaking for just a second. Locus paid it no attention and instead checked the oxygen level readings on his helmet. Power levels were good enough that he had a fair amount of time before he had to remove himself from the building entirely. Whether or not her armor could do the same, he wasn’t sure. "So... I'm curious about something." She said. 

"And?"

"You came and found me. And you haven't asked me anything beyond what happened and what we talked about over transmissions." She typed in a command. "Usually someone would ask my name. Or rank, or something." 

"I consider your name low priority until we're off of this ship and in transit." Locus explained. The progress bar appeared on the display, and he watched it as the data transferred, slowly moving toward 100%. He adjusted his grip on the shotgun. "As soon as it's done, disengage the drive. We don't have time to waste before we get off of this ship." 

The woman cocked her head and nodded. Sure enough, once it was done she pulled it and looked up at Locus. Presumably she was about to offer some sort of protest. Instead, Locus reached out for the pistol she'd laid aside and attached it to one of the mag strips on his thigh. Better safe than sorry. "Move." He ordered her. 

She began on the way forward and out of the room, while Locus walked behind her with his shotgun aimed squarely at her back. It was obvious enough to him that she wasn't going to be going with him without some sort of threat on the table to ensure that she would follow orders. 

When they had made it down three corridors, Locus asked a question. 

"What is the status of the life support in the armor you're wearing?"

"Uh—" The woman hesitated. "I don't know." 

"You aren't a soldier." 

"Civilian." The woman replied. "Name's Chris, by the way. Since you asked so nicely." 

"I didn't." 

"Right." She frowned. "So what's your deal? I’m surprised you haven’t left me to die too. Or looted what’s left." 

Locus checked the clock on his HUD. He'd been on the ship for close to four hours since he'd landed. There needed to be a faster way to get off. "Irrelevant until we're off of this ship." 

"Excuse me for being skeptical." 

"I don't care." Locus grumbled. He stopped dead in his tracks, and came to a decision. He looked back at the woman and frowned behind his visor. "We need a faster way out of here." He said. 

"You have a jet pack on your back." Chris pointed out to him. “Why not use it?” 

"Because it has limited amounts of fuel and would burn that fuel faster carrying the weight of two people." Locus looked at the wall of the ship, and finally an idea clicked into place. He set himself parallel to it and considered it carefully. "For short term course correction, it could be useful. Long term propulsion, less so." 

She looked at him, then to the wall. "What?" 

Locus blinked. 

Without needing to say so much as another word, Locus removed his sword from the mag strip on his right thigh. The hilt balanced comfortably in his grip. Locus smoothed his thumb over the cool metal for just a second before he flicked the blade out with one easy motion of his arm. 

He didn't look back at Chris. It wasn’t as though there was anywhere that she could go anyhow.  "A'rynasea." He spoke up. "Come to my location."

The woman at his side stared at him in confusion for a long moment. He didn't pay her any extra attention, instead focused and listened for the sound of a quiet chirp in his helmet that told him that A'rynasea had acknowledged his orders. 

He listened closely, and outside he could almost hear the quiet hum of his ship's engines on the other side of the thick paneling. Once it was in place, Locus could see it on his heads up display. 

"You are going to keep your grav boots active until I give you an order to move." Locus instructed the woman. "Do you understand?"

"This is  _ insane _ ." 

Just hearing the word alone was enough to make Locus bristle uncomfortably. Old habits died hard. He did his best to brush the feeling aside and move on for the sake of keeping the both of them alive. 

"It's not." Locus grumbled. He grounded himself and stepped in close enough to the wall that he could brush it with his blade. He didn't know how far he was going to need to go. If he had to guess, it was probably going to be fairly deep. Just to test, he reached in and let the sword slice into the steel. 

It melted away under his blade, and Locus got a good look at what he was dealing with. He took another step in closer to drive the sword in even further, until he felt the suction of the vacuum outside. 

After that, he didn't have time to waste. He cut away a large enough rectangle that he could climb through himself. On the other side, A'rynasea's glow announced that he could be safe as soon as he got there. He just needed to be able to maneuver himself and Chris under the suction beam below, and then they'd be safe. 

Locus looked at her. "Stay put." He ordered once more as he climbed out of the ship, making sure that he placed his feet and planted them firmly on the outside of the Babylon. The grav boots kept him securely enough in place. He pressed down and pushed his feet to be sure, and was glad when they didn’t budge. Secure. Locus eased himself to a proper standing position and then gestured to Chris for her to come forward and climb out beside him. 

She moved uneasily in her armor, until she reached the opening. She looked around for a second, and then her voice filtered into his helmet over the radio. "What now?"

“Use your grav boots.” He offered her an arm. She took it and slowly climbed up into the hole herself. Once he was ready to move, Locus pushed himself off of the ship and dragged her behind with him. Moments later he activated the jet pack and used its thrust to bring him in toward his ship. 

A'rynasea seemed to know what he needed it to do without him having to say anything. It drifted into place above him, and only the blue light and a powerful tug upward told him that they were safe until the moment they were actually inside and A'rynasea's floor had closed beneath their feet. 

"You're safe." Locus told Chris as he straightened up and shrugged off the jet pack. "For now." 

He turned away from her and reached into a small crate where he'd decided to store away many of his things from back when he was still bounty hunting. "You can store the armor here." He told her, and the woman fell for it. She walked in close to him, but before she could do anything else, Locus reached out, grabbed her by the wrist, and hauled her in to close the first half of the magnetic handcuffs around her wrist. 

After that, pulling in the second one was easy. Affixing her to the wall until he was ready to drop her off at a depot was even easier with her completely restrained. She wouldn’t be able to get free without his complete cooperation, and it was better that way. 

A’rynasea’s autopilot drove them for close to six hours toward a nearby colony. Locus spent most of the time there in the cargo hold with Chris, for no reason other than that he wanted answers and that he needed to be sure that she couldn’t get herself killed in such circumstances. 

Locus ended up trading her in on the first colony he found. He gave them a false name to accredit the capture to, and made it clear that the Babylon's case was not over. He was thanked handsomely, and Locus watched as the first groups began to mobilize to seek out those who had abandoned the Babylon. 

In truth, Locus had his doubts that they would ever be able to find them. 

A quick glance at a television on the way out of the station where he'd brought the woman told him that he couldn't afford to stay there, not if he wanted to keep his skin. 

Even though he wanted to help and bring those people to justice, he couldn't. The dock was UNSC controlled. There was a bounty on his head. The best thing he could do was simply just... leave. Abandon his mission of doing good for the sake of living another day. 

It left a too-bitter taste in his mouth that he was unable to ignore. Failure. Bitter, total failure. Failure that had enabled a number of people to die and he’d never know how many of those lives laid squarely on his shoulders for not being there sooner. 

It wasn't until he was back on his ship and completely alone that the reality of what he'd just seen sank in. It wasn't until he took off his helmet, looked at a monitor on his own ship, and remembered that he was a monster as well. He too had left thousands to die, and had killed countless people. But on Chorus it hadn’t been by lack of response, or by anything else.    
  
It had been his intent. 

But still, thousands had died. 

Babylon and Chorus were in a way, one and the same.

Locus was reminded of how much he hated himself. 

He hated himself so much that he couldn’t justify going back home. 

Not until he was able to explain, at least.


	9. Present Day: Sunday, 3:12 AM, Iris Local Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carolina hears the end of Locus' story.

When Locus’ story finally came to a close, his voice was hoarse and he was ready to go to sleep at any moment. But he still had Carolina there in his bunk, sitting pensive and quiet. Throughout the entire time that he’d been recounting his experiences with regard to  _ The Babylon _ , Carolina hadn’t said so much as a word.

It had left him without a barometer for how she was feeling. He'd done his best to keep his guilt to the wayside— what he felt toward  _ The Babylon _ was so mixed up with his feelings toward Chorus that he couldn’t talk about it. Not really. Not completely. 

But still Carolina had  _ stared _ at him through the whole story. It had caused a churning in his gut, an urge to always avert himself. To go back behind his helmet where nobody could see his—

"I think I understand it now." Carolina said almost out of nowhere, taking a breath. "The avoiding people thing." She looked down at her own hands and slowly curled in on herself, her gaze kept low as her arms wrapped around herself like she was holding herself together. Locus felt a stab of guilt of his own. 

She'd had her own too close experiences with rooms full of people that had been left to starve or suffocate, or both. There was no way that he’d done anything other than drag those horrible memories up.

"I just don't..." Locus let out a heavy breath which did nothing to calm his nerves. "Keeping a distance feels safer right now." He explained. "For me and all of you." 

Carolina pat the space on the bunk next to her. Locus approached slowly and settled himself in at her side. The bunk wasn't comfortable, in all truth. It never was when there were more than one person. Even when it was just him it was uncomfortable, since the bunk was made for someone just a little bit smaller than he was. He preferred to sleep in the seats in the cockpit for a reason. They never made him feel cramped or claustrophobic.

She reached out and wrapped an arm around his shoulders in a way that let her haul him in close. Locus closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into her touch. She was warm, and comfortable. Her hair smelled like some sort of berry that he remembered being native to Chorus that he'd never bothered to learn the name or taste of. Carefully and slowly, Locus brought his own arm up to wrap around Carolina’s waist. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered into her flame-red hair.

"Why?" She asked. "You're the one that's been through the traumatic experience in the last week. Not me." 

"I—"

"You  _ know  _ it's true." She told him with a slow release of his shoulders. "Even if you want to downplay it, it still happened." 

She was right. He knew fully well she was right. She wasn't going to let him try and brush what he'd been through off either, that much was obvious. And yet he still felt wrong looking for comfort. 

Locus looked down at his own hands. He clenched them together and squeezed to try and ground himself. Carolina’s shirt shifted under the motion "I don't know that I should..." His voice trailed off. He didn't know how to explain it, just where his mind was. "I've killed so many people I should be immune to it. I don’t have a right to feel anything about this after—" 

"Yeah." Carolina sighed heavily, thankfully cutting him off before he could finish. "I know what you mean."

He closed his eyes. "I could have gotten there just a little faster, but—" He shrugged his shoulders. "Even if I  _ did _ , I don't know that I could have saved them. Not a whole colony." 

"Blaming yourself doesn't help anything." 

"I should have gone after more. I should have taken the information that I had, and gone and tracked the people that the woman claimed had abandoned the ship, but—" He shook his head again. "But I came back here instead. And I shouldn't have." 

Carolina seemed hesitant. She reached out and placed her hand on top of his now, a slight comfort which wasn't enough to communicate what either of them needed. "I didn't have anything to do with you coming back, did I?"

"I don't know." Locus admitted. "Every time I go off on a mission, or go tracking some signal, I don't know that I'm coming back. I always feel like something will... stop me." 

"Like being arrested?" Carolina asked. “Or something else?”

"Arrests for my crimes. Being killed in action. Bigger things to follow, something to do with the key." Locus rambled off a small selection of some of the reasons that he'd almost never come back to the Reds and Blues. 

Naming every single one of them was a blatantly bad idea, at least to him. It would set off red flags that would make people become  _ concerned, _ and then he'd be in the same place where he'd been after the war— being pushed toward things he wasn't equipped to go through. Being pushed back into a civilian lifestyle that he couldn't live in without feeling like he was constantly about to crawl out of his own skin. 

Carolina and the Reds and Blues didn't need more reasons to get worried over him. They had enough on their plates without him adding to it.

She nodded. "You know—" Carolina said. "On Chorus, I thought that I wasn't going to come back to the Reds and Blues either. I thought that I'd stay on the case of some guys who had some armor and equipment  _ way  _ above their pay grade." Carolina leaned in toward him. Locus let himself glance at her out of the corner of his eye, and their gazes locked for that moment. It was no mystery what she was referring to. "And once it was done, me and Epsilon were going to go and save the universe." She let out a sigh, far away and distant. "Things changed, though." Carolina said, quieter than she’d been all night.

"So?"

"So maybe they're changing for you." Carolina sighed. "It's not the first time the Reds and Blues have offered a home to someone that's done a lot of things wrong, you know. They did it with Wash too when there was a warrant out for him. They did it for me when I did nothing but push them around and get angry at them before I left them entirely to look into you and Felix. And they're doing it for you now." 

Locus sighed. "I just don't think that I deserve it." He explained himself. "Maybe just leaving would be easier." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to though."

"Because it keeps you out of prison?" 

"Because it makes it easier." He sighed. "I forgot how much I missed having a place to rest. And not having to worry about getting up in the morning and getting shot at. I couldn't do civilian life, but life with the Reds and Blues I feel like I can. It's..." Locus looked up at the ceiling of the bunk above him. "Somehow structured. As odd as that is to say." 

"So stay." Carolina offered. "Stay. And try and  _ deal with your shit _ . We can help hide you for as long as you need. And when it's time for the next adventure, you'll be allowed to do some good. But running off and throwing yourself off constantly won’t help." 

Locus let himself lean in close to Carolina, close enough that their shoulders bumped together and he could rest his chin on top of her head. Carolina sank into his own touch, squeezing his hand. "I'll consider it."

"If you wanted to, you could finally move out of here and into one of the bases." Carolina commented. "I mean, I know having your own space is nice, but I can't imagine you wouldn't want some more space. Or a bigger bunk." A little snort escaped her. "Or maybe you're avoiding it because you don't want to be affiliated with one of the teams? I know they can be… pushy about the topic."

Locus closed his eyes and drank in Carolina's warmth. "I prefer the distance."

"You'll cave one of these days." Carolina sighed. She squeezed him once more. "Why don't we lie down? Get more comfortable." 

Locus blinked, and for just a moment that first night after he'd returned dragged itself back up. That night he'd dragged himself to Carolina's bed in the hopes that some contact could help. And he'd been turned away.

He swallowed nervously. "Are you sure?"

"I am." Carolina stretched out. "Unless something is stopping you?"

Locus' eyes flicked away. "You figure out how you want us." He said, feeling all too sheepish all of a sudden. "You're smaller." 

Carolina rolled her eyes. "I mean it when I say we could get you a proper bed." She said. "Something that  _ you  _ can fit in." 

"I'm sure I don't want to move into one of the bases." Locus reiterated, just to be safe. 

Carolina gently took his shoulder and pushed him down onto the bunk.

Locus let himself lay back in the bunk without any protest. Moments later, Carolina was twisting on the edge of the bunk to reach for a blanket which she pulled over the two of them before she climbed in at his side. She settled in next to him, and once she seemed like she was in the bunk, Locus turned his body to the side to give her a little bit more room. 

Carolina relaxed into it and pulled the blanket up around the two of them a bit more. She stretched her legs, her feet bumping into Locus' shins in the process. "You know," She said quietly. "I've missed you." 

"I apologize." Locus responded as A'rynasea automatically dimmed the lights in the area where the two of them were. It was perhaps his favorite thing about his ship’s on-board AI— it always knew when to do the things that he needed. It meant that he never fell asleep with the lights too bright, and that when things piled up too high, the ship could control the environment to make it easier for him to calm down. 

Carolina grabbed at his hand and pulled it down so that he could wrap around her a little more. She turned in the bed so that she could face him properly. Carolina stared up at him. The low light glinted off of the green of her eyes. "You don't have to apologize." Carolina said. "You went off for work, and you came back. It's hard and things are different, but you're here." 

"You could come with me next time." 

"You know that’s not gonna happen." Carolina chuckled. "I mean, probably not. Not without the guys and Kai involved, at least. You know how they’re always itching for an adventure." 

Locus hummed quietly. "I suppose you're right." He mumbled back to Carolina as he let his eyes begin to sink shut. He was comfortable. With his back against the wall and Carolina there to warm the space beside him, he felt safe. 

He hadn't felt safe in days. Not since the Babylon, at the least. Locus knew fully well that spending time on a spacecraft with that hanging over his head hadn't done anything to help him relax. Once he'd been back on his ship alone, Locus had forced A'rynasea to run several diagnostic scans. He'd needed to be sure. 

Carolina pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for coming back in one piece." 

"Not completely." Locus said. "Considering." 

"Been having nightmares?" 

Locus nodded without opening his eyes. Carolina hummed her confirmation that she realized what he meant. 

"Think me staying could help?"

"I don't know." Locus said. "It might."

Carolina nodded and squeezed in closer to him. "It's late." She whispered to Locus, finally nudging herself in the way that she always would when she was finally ready to get some rest. "And I think we're going to need to do drills in the morning." 

"Fun." Locus mumbled as he too nudged his way in. He buried his nose in Carolina's hair, careful to keep his touch so soft that she couldn't notice him. If she did, she never commented on it. 

"Sleep." Carolina ordered. 

Off in the front of his ship, Locus heard the quiet sound of white noise beginning to play, the same way that it would every time that he went to sleep. A'rynasea had understood that he needed it early on and had never failed to help. 

Carolina had understood it early on as well. She’d never questioned the need, and had never commented. The first night that they’d allowed themselves to spend together, Carolina had definitely had difficulty resting, so Locus had politely asked for his ship to stop with the sound. Since then, it had certainly gotten easier. 

Somehow, Locus did manage to sleep.


	10. One Week Ago: 6:12 PM, Interplanetary Standard Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Locus gets back to Iris.

Every lead that he’d gotten from The Babylon turned dry, too easily, too quickly. The longer that he looked at the situation, the more it stopped looking like what he’d been told was actually legitimate. While it was true that the ship had been shut down, it’s escape ships had been taken, and all of the oxygen and food supplies had failed, there was just too much that didn’t add up. 

For two days, Locus couldn’t find a single lead. 

The first actual answer came when he was searching for some ration that he could eat that wasn’t the same type that he’d had for his last four meals. It had dragged him to the point where he was searching through his foot locker because it was the last place that he could think of where he might have had something good stashed. 

What he found instead was an old field manual, battered and beaten so badly that it was being held together with nothing but carefully applied tape. He reached to set it aside when a photograph fell out from between the pages. On it, Siris, Felix, and himself, all decked in armor years and years before. 

Locus picked it up carefully, reverently. 

As he stared down at the photograph, at his partner, something fell into place finally. 

There was a reason the story didn’t add up. 

“A’rynasea.” Locus said, dropping the field manual and the photograph back into the foot locker. “Are there any major space pirate depots in the area?”   


A beeping sound signaled to Locus that his ship was doing a scan. 

Even if it came up with something, any pirates would have been too far away from where he was to actually be able to track anything. 

If it came up with something, finding the pirates would be a massive undertaking. One that he couldn’t possibly go through alone. 

If.

Ultimately, whatever had happened, he was guaranteed to be too late. 

Moments later, A’rynasea chimed over its intercom. Locus stood up and walked to the front of his ship, his desire for a meal forgotten. There were more important things that he  _ had _ to do. 

The readouts showed that there was one known rendezvous point. Locus frowned at the revelation that it was conveniently placed in a debris field, but he wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t pretend to be surprised. 

“Set course.” Locus instructed his ship. A’rynasea’s lights flashed in confirmation, while Locus stood up, went to don his armor, and selected weapons to use should he have a need for it. He hoped that he wouldn’t, but the odds of that were likely much lower than he ever would have liked. 

Within half an hour A’rynasea was on route to try and figure out whether Locus’ hunch was correct. The entire time in transit, Locus couldn’t help but focus on how  _ easy _ it would have been to take over a colony ship. 

A colony ship wasn’t like the Tartarus. It wouldn’t have been stocked with a skeleton crew. It’s cargo wouldn’t have been locked away behind bars. But the people onboard  _ would _ have been mostly untrained. The elderly, children. People that had survived the war but weren’t in fighting order any more after years of civilian life. 

But the methods used to get on board were the same. Play along like survivors on an incident needing shelter. Board and gain the trust of the crew. 

Rob the ship blind in the middle of the night and cut power supplies so that the people onboard wouldn’t be able to report the incident or find help in time, all while making their ways away so that they couldn’t be found. 

Easy. Too easy. 

He couldn’t let himself get his hopes up, Locus reminded himself. Just because the Reds and Blues could fight an entire army of space pirates didn’t mean that he could do it alone. They’d had AI, an army, Freelancers. 

He had himself and a ship. Help was too far off to be of any use. 

If he found anything, the odds were that the best he could do was track and return later. 

If. 

By the time A’rynasea reached the debris field, Locus was well-equipped for a battle and keeping a close eye on all relevant scanners in the odd hope that he could find something. 

And he’d hoped. He’d hoped more than anything that he could find people there in the debris, in the mess, in the ruins. He hoped that he could be able to place trackers on ships and come back for them later. 

But nobody was there. 

Not a single sign of life. Nothing to show that there were cloaked ships in the vicinity. 

Locus was horribly, dreadfully, suffocatingly alone. 

No matter how much he wanted to be able to fix things, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t save anyone. Couldn’t bring any justice. 

He’d failed. 

He’d failed thousands of people. The only comfort he could take in the matter was the scant knowledge that he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger, as much as it felt like he had.

For too long, Locus allowed himself and A’ryansea to hover there among the debris in the hope that some lead would present itself, something that he could follow and put his energy into. 

But nothing came. 

He allowed himself three days there in the debris field, and those three days were enough to prove to him that it had been abandoned by whoever had been based there previously. 

With no options in site, Locus had to choose where he was meant to go next. 

Iris was always an option. He didn’t want for Iris to be an option, but he always ended up crawling back at the end of the day. He could always go there, fall in with the Reds and Blues for a little bit, enjoy a few meals that hadn’t come straight out of a plastic packet, and then leave again when he felt ready for another mission. 

He  _ was _ exhausted. And he was in need of a decent meal, and a shower at the very least. His armor could also definitely afford a proper cleaning. 

Iris was safe. It always was. The Reds and Blues made sure of it. 

So Locus set course for Iris, simply because he didn’t know where else to go.

He didn’t call ahead to let the Reds and Blues know that he was on his way, and he didn’t call to let them know that he was there when he landed either. They’d figure out that he was there soon enough, and when that happened Locus fully intended to keep his distance until he felt ready to be around people again.

He was just  _ tired _ and so glad to be on solid land. 

Cold relief washed through him so strongly and so intensely that he was tempted to simply stay in his ship. But he had to do things. He needed a shower. He needed a meal. He needed to check that his ship was in working order if he wanted to be able to leave again. 

When he wanted to leave again. 

It wasn’t a matter of if, really. Locus had never been good at staying in one place, not as long as he’d lived.

Mostly, he needed to find a way to decompress from everything that had happened and try to find solid ground again. Before, Felix had always been there to help lift the weight of figuring out how to get that done off of his shoulders. It had been  _ nice _ . But Felix was gone, and the people that had replaced him weren’t ones that Locus could hand all of himself over to. 

Not yet. Possibly not ever. 

He had to do it himself. Once he was calm, then he could go in. 

Locus leaned back at the console of his ship and slowly allowed himself to remove his helmet. He held it close to him for a moment too long and stared down at its featureless visor. It wasn’t like how it had been before, on Chorus. He didn’t need to look at the helmet to be able to separate himself from the armor anymore. The days of staring into it and repeating his separation to himself like a mantra were mostly gone. 

But even still, for far too long, Locus stared and stared. He smoothed his thumbs over the triangular pattern that rested just above his brow when he wore the helmet. The old cross was gone, the symbol which had so closely resembled the lacerations that had been placed between his eyes as a constant, unchanging reminder of  _ what  _ he was.

He felt as though he were about to suffocate. 

Locus took in a too-deep breath and tried to force himself to relax, inch by inch and muscle by muscle. 

When that too failed, Locus didn’t know what else to do that wouldn’t require him to leave the safety of A’rynasea. 

Without any better solution, Locus opted to turn on the heads up display on his ship, which showed him the same words and images that it had while he’d been on the return trip from The Babylon’s wreck site, and the debris field after it.

Immediately Locus was hit with a too-familiar sort of wave of nausea at the sight. He needed to find a way to get it out of his head, and soon. A certain part of him couldn’t just go and close out the windows though. He needed to at the least try to follow through on the story as it developed, even when he knew that he needed to be out there doing what he could to help. 

Even when he knew that there wasn’t anything left that he could do. 

He needed to, but he couldn’t. Not when he had left the place where he’d dropped Chris off sure that he was minutes from being identified and captured. Not when his one possible lead (not even a lead, a  _ hunch, _ he reminded himself) had fallen apart so quickly and spectacularly.

Staying and helping with the formal follow up investigation had been an impossibility. That was simply a fact, one which Locus knew he needed to acknowledge if he was going to be able to move on with his life at all. Even if it left him with his skin crawling and his heart beating too hard in his chest, it was something which he  _ needed  _ to acknowledge. 

 

Against all better judgement, Locus elected to turn on a transmission scanner which he could always trust to pick up on Interstellar Daily's broadcasts whenever they went up. He leaned back in the pilot's seat at the console, waited, and watched as the image of Dylan Andrews (who had apparently re-won her job at the network following her coverage of the Blues and Reds incident) flashed up onto the screen at the front of A'rynasea. 

She began to recount stories from over the course of the day in a forced cheery tone. Having been in close contact with the woman in the past, Locus had his serious doubts that it was real. She had taken him seriously when he'd put himself in a position to save her and her cameraman. She'd listened to orders and had provided aid where it was needed. Whatever she did on camera, it was an act.

In a way, Locus could almost feel that he trusted the  _ idea  _ of her, when she came up on the console every night to tell the universe of what had happened between the stars over the course of the day. It provided something that he could rely on, no matter where he was or what he was doing. The news was always there to provide a routine that he was so desperate to have. 

However, Locus didn't know that he was really listening along with the news because he wanted to hear about what had happened that day. He only wanted to know about one specific thing- whether or not the Babylon was being reported on. 

An hour into the broadcast, images of the ship were shown. They were the pristine photos that would have been taken on the day the ship was sent off for the first time. Images of what it looked like when he'd seen it would never have been considered worthy of television on account of being too gruesome. 

The report that he heard gave only the most minimal information. Colony ship had broken down and was abandoned, and there was a hunt for the parties involved. Death count in the thousands ( _ thousands _ , that he hadn't been able to save.) Story provided by a single survivor who had been able to give them information, but what that information was was kept carefully blank and unelaborated upon. 

His name never came up, neither did the name that he'd given the station when he'd turned Chris (Christina Black, a low-level flight engineer — he learned halfway into the broadcast) in. It was a relief. It meant that he didn't have to worry about acting upon a plan that he'd put in place specifically because he refused to let the Reds and Blues get in trouble for harboring a fugitive. 

The report finished and turned over to discuss a recall for a type of pre-packaged cereal that tended to be used on most of the colonies. It was only then that Locus turned off the transmission, took a breath, and let himself relax for at least the moment. 

A'rynasea's lights pulsed blue. A reminder that he needed to get off of the ship and let the Reds and Blues know that he had arrived back on Iris.

He needed listen and go. Locus knew that he should, even though he really didn't want to. The idea of being around others doesn't sit so well with him. Not until he's had time to breathe. 

Locus stood up in his seat slowly and walked toward his bunk at the back of his ship. It was just as abandoned as it had been when he'd left Iris. He hadn't had the time for him to be able to rest, or sleep. Any plans that he'd had to get some sleep had been promptly derailed when he'd felt familiar paranoia creeping over him upon delivering Chris. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a proper night of sleep. It would have had to have been before he left Iris, regardless. 

In a few swift moments, Locus unpacked a set of clothes to wear for the night. Familiar grey pajama pants that he'd bought before Chorus, and a simple olive UNSC shirt that he'd had for most of his life, if he had to guess. A pair of underwear and clean, soft socks finished off what he'd need. 

Everything got tossed into his little box of toiletries that he preferred to keep on the ship, and Locus grabbed a coat hanger on the way out so he wouldn't have to fold his undersuit. 

The walk to the bases was short. Locus felt some relief when he didn't see any lights on or fires outside. It seemed that everyone was in bed, and nobody seemed to be out on patrol for the moment yet either. 

Once he stood at the top of the hill that separated where he liked to park with A'rynasea, Locus needed to make a choice between Red Base and Blue Base. Blue base was further away, but it was more likely to have a clean and unoccupied bathroom. Red base was closer and everyone was more familiar, but Donut usually used the bathroom at odd hours for spa time. Six hour long baths, among other things. 

Red base had Grif. Blue base had the Freelancers. 

The Freelancers would be able to understand better. 

Locus bowed his head and made a beeline for Blue Base, and slipped inside without any incidence. It was mostly quiet, aside from the sound of Caboose's chainsaw like snoring. When he peeked under the doors as he walked by, none of the doors had any light filtering out from under them.  

Locus pushed the wave of loneliness that hit him away and approached Carolina’s room long enough to step in, hopeful that he could find comfort in the caverns of her arms. 


	11. Present Day: Sunday, 4:14 AM, Iris Local Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Locus wakes and Carolina takes charge.

Locus awoke to a too-sharp world with a too-sharp breath. As he blinked himself awake his brain _screamed_ at him that he needed to figure out where he was. Find ground. Identify threats and find safety for his own good.

He didn’t shoot upright, not yet. He let his eyes wander the room and began to recognize it. Suffocating dark shifted to deep comforting blue. Pale silver lights pulsed above him. Dark red laid at his side, wisps hanging over a soft peach face. Hidden from him, vibrant green.  

Piece by piece, Locus made sense of the world around him. Things fell into place.

He was on his ship, in his little bunk at the back. Safe.

Not alone.

Locus didn't know what time it was, but he couldn’t feel the slow drift of the ship being in space around him. So he could only assume that he was still on Iris, it was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that put his current company into context.

"Locus?"

He wasn't alone.

Locus shifted uncomfortably, suddenly too aware of Carolina at his side.

Carolina. He must have woken her up by accident. Immediately, bitter guilt began to bubble in his chest.

In the past he’d always managed to avoid waking her up on the rare few nights that he’d allowed himself to share with her. Normally he would have left earlier, mostly because it helped him and Carolina keep what strange little relationship they had hidden from the prying eyes of the Reds and Blues. It kept the two of them safe.

The arrangement meant that Carolina never learned that he had nightmares. It meant that she never knew that she occasionally managed to creep into them. It meant that it was a sad, sick part of him that was ultimately kept safe by distance.

Locus did his best to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Go back to sleep." Locus said quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Carolina sat up at his side, her red hair flopping out of her loose ponytail and into her face. "A'rynasea?" She asked the ship. "Turn on the lights."

Slowly, the dark blue and pale silver light began to change to a soft shade of gold that was just barely on the more comforting side of orange. The color was bright enough that it was enough to light the ship without hurting either of their eyes. The gradual change did a lot for them both.

Locus pushed himself upright. The bunk was too small for the both of them.

He felt like he could barely breathe. He was sweating. He would need to get a shower, sooner than later.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Carolina said, blinking the sleep away from her eyes. She looked over at him and brushed her hair behind her shoulders with her fingers in an attempt to get more comfortable. "Are you okay?"

Locus was taken aback by the question.

Perhaps if he was _used_ to hearing such a thing, he wouldn't have been.

"I'm… alright." Locus said in an attempt to reassure Carolina. "It was just a nightmare."

Carolina nodded. "I figured as much." She sighed. "I'm not going to make you talk about it, you know. I know it wouldn’t do much good anyways to force it."

And she was right. She was right and Locus truthfully hated that she was right. She knew him too well. More than could ever be considered comfortable.

"Thank you." Locus whispered back to Carolina in the uneasy hope that it might make her somehow forget that the incident had ever happened. “You should go back to sleep.”

Carolina hummed quietly, considering the suggestion. "I don't know." She said after a too long moment. "Do you think that maybe..." She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow in concentration and frustration. It was an expression that Locus had seen her wear during games of cards with the Reds, and preparing for missions, and when trying to figure out what to make for dinner on the nights where it was her job to do so. It was a look of pure intensity.

It was a look which Locus mainly associated with her taking things seriously.

"Maybe...?" He prompted.

"Do you think that staying on your ship is a good idea?" Carolina finished her question, letting it out in a stilted way which said to Locus that she was afraid that she was causing some sort of offense. "After... what you told me earlier."

Locus let his eyes flicker down to the blankets which pooled down at his waist. "It's my home." He said. That was all there was to it. A’rynasea was home. He didn’t have anywhere else that he could call anything even remotely similar.

"I understand that." Carolina whispered. "But..." She looked up at him, eyes soft and voice gentle. "Do you feel safe here? On a ship? After all of that?"

_Safe._

Safe wasn't a word that Locus allowed himself to think about. Comfort and relaxation were things that he was able to achieve on occasions but safety was something else.

He hadn't felt safe for the better part of two decades, possibly longer. Even when he was on land and away from war, he never thought he was safe. In a way, safety was a nearly foreign concept to him and had been for a very long time.

On Iris with the Reds and Blues, he didn't know that he felt _safe_. Not when he knew that the Reds and Blues tended to attract trouble like honey attracted bears.

"I don't know." Locus admitted, speaking too slowly and heavily. "It's not—" His eyes flicked away. Locus let his jaw set. "How could I feel safe?"

He didn’t get an answer, partially because he strongly suspected that Carolina wouldn’t have known how to give him one that could ever satisfy him.

Carolina offered him her hand, which left him absolutely no room for further questions of any sort. "Come on." She urged gently. "Grab whatever you need. We're going to the base."

"But—"

" _Sam_." Carolina cut him off. "We're going to the base." She stated it again, less like an offer, more like an _order_. "Get whatever you need for tonight. We can get more in the morning."

_We._

She intended to stay there with him. Locus wasn’t sure how he actually felt about that particular prospect.

He stared up at her and their eyes met. The green of her irises was so intense that Locus could practically imagine them _glowing,_ and how deeply alien it would look. But she didn't waver, even when he tilted his head up the way that he would when he felt the need to defy Felix back in the day.

Not even for a second, did Carolina give the impression that she was letting him win the argument, as small as it felt, as insignificant as it likely was.

So Locus allowed himself that moment of submission. He climbed out of his bunk and picked up the scratchy old blanket, which he folded neatly into a square before he placed his pillow on top of it. All the while, Carolina watched him and curled up on the bunk in wait. She said nothing. There wasn’t anything that she needed to say when she already knew that she’d won.

Locus gathered his old duffel bag that he’d had since boot camp, which he filled with a single set of clothes and a book. He set the blanket and the pillow inside the bag and zipped it shut in one easy  motion. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get him through the night.

Of course, that assumed that nothing would happen. A part of him already suspected that he’d wake in the morning back on A’rynasea, regardless of what Carolina ultimately wanted.

Carolina waited though. "Are you ready?" She asked, gentleness having crept back into her tone.

"I suppose." Locus grumbled.

Carolina gave him a sympathetic look and offered him her hand. "Come on." She said. "We're going."

And with that, Locus allowed Carolina to simply tug him along. He had to focus more on not dropping his bag or tripping than where the two of them were actually going. She brought him across the valley and through the large space between the two bases until the two of them were crossing the threshold of Blue Base.

She led him through its familiar halls, and they only stopped for a moment to say hello to a tired looking Agent Washington who sat at the kitchen table reading on his data pad while eating a grilled cheese sandwich with a bowl of tomato soup. They only got a half-hearted wave in response, and Locus couldn’t help but be grateful that Washington chose not to make any comments. He felt awkward enough as things were. _If_ he had any comment on Locus being there, and the obvious presence of Locus' duffel bag, he kept it to himself. Most likely because Washington already knew the nature of their relationship.

Seconds later, Carolina opened the door to her room and steered him inside with ease. “We made it.” Carolina told him, almost playfully. “You know that you can relax now. Wash won’t say anything.”

She was right. Locus _knew_ Carolina was right, and yet it didn’t do anything to calm his nerves. He glanced around Carolina’s room— it was always messier than he would have expected. But it was comfortable, lived in. Much more than the sorts of places that Locus had allowed himself to stay in.

He hesitated for too long though, questions buzzing in his head that he was certain he wouldn’t get answers for. “Was there a reason for this?” He finally asked her, voice barely above a whisper in the fear that the two of them might have been overheard.

" _Y_ _es_." Carolina responded. "We're just going to stay the night. And I would like it—" Carolina sat down on the bed, and bounced slightly with her landing before she settled. "If you would stay here for a few more nights with me."

"I—"

" _If_ this works." Carolina amended before he could get a word in edgewise. "If it doesn't, you can go back to A'rynasea. But I want for you to at least _try_ it."

Locus eyed the bed warily, nights before still sitting too heavily in his mind as he considered it. He could just go ahead and take the seat and make himself comfortable. Carolina wouldn't judge him.

She'd invited him.

"You're certain that this is what you want?"

"Yes." Carolina said. "I want you to be..." She squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath. "I want for you to be happy, or at least _comfortable_. And I want for you to feel safe enough to share that happiness with me."

"I don't know—"

"Sam." Carolina cut him off. "I _want_ you here." She bit out the words earnestly. "I don't like knowing that you're staying on that ship when there's a possibility that it's acting as a trigger."

Locus looked away.

"That's what it is, isn't it?" Carolina asked, her voice soft. "A trigger."

"I... think that it may be too early to say." The exhaustion tugged him toward the bed, where Locus let himself sit at her side. Despite it all there was a significant "Maybe it is."

“Right.” Carolina said. “And if that’s a real possibility, it probably isn’t healthy for you to keep on staying on your ship and making things even worse for yourself.” Without looking over at him directly, she inched her hand towards his and let their fingertips brush together. “If getting out of there might help, I think you should try.”

And Carolina was right. He _knew_ that she was right. It was the same sort of thing that Siris used to say back in the day, but aside from offering Locus a place on his couch he’d never gone ahead to intervene in such a direct manner. Back then, Locus had always been thankful for the amount of distance that he’d been afforded.

In the moment, Locus was almost… glad that Carolina was there. It made her words feel more real, at the very least.

She cared about him. She even seemed to be honest about it, which was more than Locus had ever learned to expect from anyone around him. The person he’d always put faith in before was someone that had always had a knife at his back. The trust that Locus felt with Carolina was just _different ._ It was good.

Locus turned his hand slowly to let Carolina lace their fingers together. “I’ll stay the night.” He conceded. “I don’t know if it will… help at all, but I’ll try.” His face was getting hot. His heart was beating too hard, but it wasn’t from the same sort of nervousness that he was so used to.

Carolina leaned in for him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Come on.” She told him. “Get comfortable. We’re staying here for the night, and we can check in on the Babylon in the morning if you want to.”

And it was... pleasant. In a way that Locus hadn't been fully prepared for. He let out a quiet breath. "Alright." He conceded and allowed Carolina to steer him gently toward her bed. He lowered himself down onto it and tested it for a second. The longest amount of time that he'd spent there in the past had always been an hour or three at the most. He'd always ended up leaving once he and Carolina were through whatever they were doing that evening. It had always felt more proper for him to go than stay in the base.

The idea of staying there for a night to just... sleep was foreign.

But she wanted him to stay, so he supposed he didn't have much of a choice. Locus climbed in and placed himself against the wall. Carolina waited for him to at least look settled before she grabbed his bag and tossed it toward him.

Locus opened it up and removed the pillow, which he promptly set behind himself, and then the blanket, which he contemplated using for a long moment. Carolina had blankets, but the two of them had never spent a long enough night together for him to know whether or not whatever she had was enough.

He opted for the blanket and set the bag back down on the floor. Moments later, Carolina gingerly nudged it against the wall with her foot before she dropped back down onto the bed beside Locus. She tied her hair back and stretched her neck, then laid down at Locus' side and stretched to make herself comfortable.

When she looked over at him, she smiled, but looked... tired.

Locus was hit with a wave of guilt at the realization that it was his own fault. He swallowed and looked to the light, then back to Carolina. "I'm ready." Locus told her. As much as he wanted to make sure that he had a weapon stashed somewhere in reach, he had reason to believe that Carolina wouldn't exactly go humoring him when she was already tired.

Without another word, Carolina clicked the light off and she pulled the blanket up around herself. At his side, she was warm. Pleasant. Comforting in a way that he had long since lost any acclimation to.

Even better than that was the bed. There was space for him to breathe and to stretch his legs out without having to worry about them hanging off of the end of the bunk. It was dizzyingly comfortable. Locus allowed himself to press in close to Carolina nonetheless, and wrapped an arm around her to pull her in close.

She said nothing, but went into his grip easily. The gentle press of her fingers as she laced them through his hair said more to him than words ever would. Bit by bit, he managed to relax into the bed until Carolina was whispering goodnight into his ear.

Carolina fell asleep before he did.

As much as he wanted to sleep, Locus laid awake for a little while longer. From Carolina's room he could not see the sky or the stars. He wouldn't be able to hear any transmissions coming through in the middle of the night. Locus took stock of every corner of the room that he could see from Carolina's bed.

Being on land was nice. There with Carolina, he was far from the things that bothered him. He couldn't just wake up and walk to the front of his ship to obsess over how much he had managed to do wrong.

The last thoughts that drifted through his mind that night were that Carolina had wanted him there. She'd asked for him to come with her to bed. She'd asked to spent the night with him after a night of movies with the Reds and Blues. When he'd woken she'd never questioned and had only offered help, even if it came with a bite of bitterness with it to make sure that she was listened to.

And being wanted, by someone who didn't hold his every failure against him...

It was nice.

Locus had missed nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, that's the end of this fic, just in time for the end of Rarepair Week 2019. Thank you to everyone who has read along and enjoyed this story!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me wherever. Sometimes I post fic previews and things like that. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](arynasea.tumblr.com)  
> [Fanfiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8354812/)  
> [Pillowfort.io](https://www.pillowfort.io/Mantisbelle)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mantisbelle)  
> [Dreamwidth](https://mantisbelle.dreamwidth.org/)


End file.
